The Severus Snape Advent Calendar, Take 6
by HappyAuriga
Summary: It's December again...
1. 1

1

It was the 1st of December, and Severus Snape, Hogwarts' resident potions master and double agent, was in a bad mood.

For five years in a row the last month of the year had been made exciting by advent calendars, given by Santa, the Dark Lord and Hogwarts Castle itself. This year was going to be boring and bleak for who would give him another Advent Calendar?

Santa had said he never sold to anyone more than once and him giving Severus a second calendar had been an unheard of exception. The Dark Lord had wanted to show off and he was certainly not going to do it more than once. And why would the castle want to repeat last year's performance. No, there wasn't going to be any calendar this year.

His robes billowing behind him ominously, the dark clad wizard made his way up the dungeon corridors to the Great Hall for breakfast. Surprisingly, the house tables were full in spite of the early hour. Snape growled and continued his dramatic stroll up to the head table. Even the teachers were all assembled, Dumbledore was smiling benignly at his potions master as the man sat down in his usual seat and reached for a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Severus," the headmaster smiled merrily.

"Good morning, Albus," Snape stifled a yawn. "Am I late? Have I missed an announcement? Why is everybody here this early?"

"Alas," Dumbledore bit the head off a gingerbread man, "it's obvious! Everybody wants to know whether you are going to share an advent calendar with us this year!"

"I'm sorry to disappoint…" before Snape could continue his apology, a bell appeared at the table, right in front of his plate, and in a rain of sparks, a scroll materialised on said plate. The scroll was made of heavy parchment and was tied with a ribbon of yellow and silver silk. There was a blue wax seal on it and the seal showed a golden reindeer.

READ ME OUT LOUD was written on the scroll in an ornate script.

The students whispered excitedly when the scroll appeared and the whispers turned into outcries of excitement when there was another shower of sparks when Snape broke the seal. Nevertheless the potions master had the full attention of the student body as soon as he rose and started to unroll the parchment. Everybody waited with baited breath what the letter was about.

"Dear Severus," Snape read in the voice he reserved for telling the first years what his subject was about. "For five years I enjoyed watching over you as you opened your advent calendar to await my arrival. It was a delightful pastime for me as well as for you and all of Hogwarts. The thought that there won't be another calendar this year saddened me but I already made a huge exception for you by giving you a second box. I discussed the case with my elves and since they enjoyed your little adventures as much as I, they helped me come up with a solution."

Here the potions master had to pause. Did it mean what he thought? Did he dare hope? Was there going to be another calendar?

"I agreed with them that it is not against the Only One Calendar Rule if I take a leaf out of your castle's book. There will be no calendar, but there will be 24 little gifts. Every day at 8am sharp, the little bell I sent you will ring and once it has done so, one of the people present at the Great Hall at the time will find the date on one of their socks. They must take off the sock right there and then and will find their present in it.

Merry Christmas

Santa

PS: The bell will stop working if it is removed from the spot I put it.

PPS: It chimed already. Everybody should check their socks!"

The students scrambled to do as Santa had said. Boys and girls alike dove under the tables to check their footwear. The teachers checked more discretely by lifting the hems of their robes and looking down.

"Hahaaaaaaaaa!" It was Albus Dumbledore himself who cried out triumphantly. He showed a measure of flexibility entirely unexpected for a man his age by putting his left foot on the table without leaving his chair. And really, on his sock there was a big golden "1". "It wasn't there when I put them on!" he cried excitedly and pulled off first his ankle boot and then his sock. He wiggled his toes merrily.

The students watched eagerly as the headmaster put his hand into the sock and with an outcry of delight pulled out a small silver star. The old wizard held the star up high for everybody to see. As soon as it was lifted, the star pulled free and circled first the headmaster's head then McGonagalls who sat beside him, and then made its way through the Great Hall, circling every single head in the process.

Everybody who had already been visited by the star had a bright red knitted hat with a white fur tuft on top on their head.

Dumbledore clapped his hands happily. "What a pleasant gift! How about we put it to good use and cancel the first lesson in favour of some playtime in the snow?"

Snape was going to protest but then he remembered that he was supposed to teach his most hated class in the morning – the one with Potter and Malfoy in it – and stayed quite. Instead he snarled "May I suggest that everybody wears fresh socks to breakfast until Christmas?" over the cheers of the students.

"I dearly hope they heard you," muttered Minerva McGonagall as they left the Great Hall together.

"I dearly hope they do as I told them," Snape replied.

Together they walked outside to supervise the children playing in the snow. Even Snape had to admit that a crowd of mini-Santas was cute.


	2. 2

2

The next day saw the entire population of Hogwarts assembled in the Great Hall by 7am as nobody wanted to miss the bell chime and the advent calendar present appear. Dumbledore had to stop the house elves from punishing themselves for not having breakfast ready an hour before it usually started on weekends. The elves were fierce in the negotiations that ensued and only agreed to not punish themselves when they were granted permission to make eggs Benedict for everybody. The dish appeared, along with a full English breakfast, a variety of cakes, cold hams and fruit spreads, fifteen minutes after the head elf had returned to the kitchen.

Snape downed two cups of coffee before he reached for something to eat. He had spent several hours brewing detergents for the house elves. It seemed that a large number of people had expressed their desire to have their socks laundered, and the potions master thought it was in his best interest to make sure the house elves had everything they needed. And it could not be denied, the laundry potions Snape provided were much better than anything that could be bought, be it at Diagon Alley or from one of the fancy owl order catalogues Dumbledore provided for the elves to choose from.

The unusual breakfast had the students calm down and eat in relative silence. Snape was glad. Breakfast was so much more relaxing when you didn't have to listen to teenagers quarrelling over nothing.

By the time Santa's bell chimed, everybody but a couple of particularly hungry upper year boys had finished their meals. The bright sound of the bell caused girls to squeal and boys to cry out in excitement. Snape rolled his eyes, but joined the students in checking in the ensuing sock-checking.

It was a disappointment when his socks had stubbornly stayed plain black and no number two had appeared on any of them. The scroll of parchment had been addressed to him, certainly he was going to get a present, too! Snape just hoped that Santa needed a little warm up before he gave away the good presents and was keeping his, Snape's, socks for one of the better gifts.

Snape was pleased when one of his own house, Margarita Bulstrode, little sister to Millicent, cried "I've got it!" excitedly. The girl, surprisingly petite for a Bulstrode, took off her expensive dragon hide shoe and a white sock that was decorated with frills and new, golden number two. Snape was proud when it turned out that the girl had been clever enough to bring a matching extra sock in her pocket, which she put on immediately after taking off the advent calendar sock.

Once young Margarita was once again clothed as befitted a young witch of breeding in public, she reached into her sock. The students waited with baited breath and Snape could not deny being curious himself. Was there a personal present for the girl or another present for everybody?

When Margarita pulled out her hand, she was holding a simple round cookie cutter. Snape could understand why she looked a little disappointed. Her expression changed to delight though, when the cookie cutter sparkled and changed to a beautiful snowflake shape in her hand.

"There are more!" she cried excitedly. She put the first cookie cutter on the table and reached for another. Once again, the object was simply round when it was pulled out of the sock. Margarita waited, but nothing happened. "You can have it," she said to the girl who sat beside her.

The girl accepted the gift with some quick words of thanks, Alice Morrison was a very kind girl and a round cookie cutter from Santa was better than nothing. She cried out happily when the cookie cutter sparkled the moment she touched it, and changed to the form of a snitch.

"It seems the magic works only once for a person," Dumbledore told Margarita from his seat at the high table. "Try it out, please. Give Miss Morrison another, if you have more."

Margarita had, and she handed it to Alice. It stayed round for both of them, but when it was handed to Theodore Nott, it took the form of a wizard's hat. Margarita caught on immediately. She got up from her seat, walked along the Slytherin table and handed out cookie cutters.

People started to get up and show what the circle of metal had turned into for them and the assembled witches and wizards oooh-ed and aaah-ed repeatedly. There was a bout of laughter, when Draco Malfoy's cookie cutter took the form of a hair brush.

Gregory Goyle got a bunny and his friends teased him mercilessly. All in all there were many pet-shaped cookie cutters and snitches. Granger's cookie cutter – Margarita had of course proceeded to the other house tables after everybody in Slytherin had one – turned into a rectangle, which most students found disappointed but the girl was delighted. "It's a book, and I'm not surprised you don't recognize one when you see it," she chastised Ronald Weasley when he said something.

Potter, of course, got his trademark lightning bolt. Dumbledore got a halfmoon.

"Severus!" Minerva was scandalized when it was the potions master's turn to show his new cookie cutter.

"What, you wicked woman!" cried Snape. "It's a ginger root!"

It seemed that part of the student body thought along the same lines as the deputy headmistress for there was a lot of giggling.

Once Margarita had returned to her seat, lumps of dough, rolling pins and baking sheets appeared on the tables.

"Splendid!" cried Dumbledore and everybody started to roll their dough.

Baking with Santa's assistance was wonderful. Once you had your baking sheet full the sheet would glow and the cookies ware baked in seconds. Soon a delightful smell filled the Great Hall.

The magic did not end there though. Pots of icing in various colours appeared and everybody had fun decorating their biscuits.

Potter got into a quarrel with Weasley over the question whether it was appropriate to make his lightning bolts green.

"Slytherin colours? Are you mad?" Weasley cried, outraged.

"That's Avada-green, you dolt!" Potter shouted back. "And I'm sorry that that's the colour I associate with it!"

McGonagall gave Snape a hard time about his cookies and only shut up when Sprout informed her that those were clearly ginger roots and everybody who was not a complete fail in Herbology could see it on first sight. Snape thanked her but the kind head of Hufflepuff wouldn't hear anything about having to thank her.

The whole cookie making lasted until lunch time and Dumbledore asked the house elves to serve milk so that everybody could have milk and cookies. It turned out that there had been different kinds of dough, and people started to trade cookies.

Snape had two of his ginger roots (they even had ginger in them!), one of Malfoy's hair brushes (chocolate), one of Margarita's snowflakes (vanilla) and one of Dumbledore halfmoons (vanilla, too) for lunch. When he returned to his quarters, he was carrying a plate that held a couple of his ginger roots, but also one of Potter's lightning bolts, a chocolate star from young Miss Bones from Hufflepuff, a mandrake (chopped walnuts) from Sprout and a dragon (peppermint) from Hagrid, to mention just a few.

The potions master was glad that he didn't have any patrol duties that evening. He was looking forward to reading a good book and nibbling a cookie or two in front of his fireplace.


	3. 3

3

On the third, the Great Hall was as good as empty when Snape arrived at the same time as the day before. In fact, the only people already present were Dumbledore and McGonagall.

The witch pushed a cup of coffee towards the potions master as soon as he had sat down and Dumbledore informed him of the extraordinary quality of the sausages that the elves had served that particular day.

Snape dutifully tried them and had to agree that, yes, they were very good.

"Any idea why nobody is here yet?" he asked his superior as he reached for another sausage from the platter that refilled itself magically every time somebody took a sausage.

"It's Sunday," Dumbledore pointed out, "and everybody knows now that the bell really chimes at eight. They will be here in time."

"Why don't we enjoy the peace and quiet as long as it lasts," smiled McGonagall as she buttered a scone.

"Did you tell the house elves to serve sausages for breakfast, Albus?" Snape asked, more to make small talk than out of interest.

"Indeed," the older wizard replied, "after all those cookies yesterday, I thought everybody could do with something a bit more spicy."

McGonagall chuckled and added a big spoon of raspberry jam to her scone. "You seem to think that people won't like a sweet breakfast two days in a row. You are wrong, Sir!" She wiggled her spoon at the headmaster and chuckled when a dollop of jam flew into his beard. "Ooops! Sorry!"

Dumbledore, to Snape's disgust, lifted part of his beard to his mouth and sucked the jam off. "Delicious!" he muttered while he removed the jam he didn't get that way with a wordless spell.

Ten minutes before the bell was supposed to chime, the students arrived and Snape was reminded of a stampede. The door to the Entrance Hall opened and the boys and girls streamed in as if they were souls fleeing from the gates of hell.

By the time the bell did chime, everybody was seated and had a cup of something warm – cocoa or tea for most students – in front of them. As soon as the bell sounded, teenagers dove under the house tables to check their socks. Only the Weasley twins had a different idea. One of them, Snape thought it must be Fred, turned sideways to his brother and lifted a hairy leg up high for the other twin to see. "Would you kindly check my sock, oh brother mine?" he asked and the other twin made a show of looking at it. No, there was no number on the sock. The show was repeated first with this twin's other leg and then with the other twin's legs. No, all four socks were entirely numberless.

It was Hagrid's booming voice that finally announced "Got it!"

The students cheered. With Hagrid's huge feet, there must be room for a spectacular gift in his sock!

The gamekeeper removed his shoe and sock under the table and slid his foot back into his shoe self-consciously as soon as he had retrieved the sock. It was, indeed, a huge sock!

When Hagrid reached into it, a beatific smile appeared on his face. "Look!" he cried excitedly and presented a small egg. "I'm gonna be a Mommy!"

Most of the students chuckled good-naturedly. The teachers looked at each other, alarmed. What had Hagrid got? He was known for his uncommon taste in pets, after all!

"Hang on! There are more!" Hagrid cried. And really, there was an egg for every person present! Hagrid kept the first egg to himself and handed out the rest. They were of various sizes and colours and many of the girls squealed when they got a particularly pretty one.

"What now?" drawled Draco Malfoy. "Are we expected to incubate them?"

"A splendid idea, Mr Malfoy!" cried Dumbledore. With a quick spell he turned part of his beard into a nest and put his gaudy orange egg inside. A second spell made a nest in Hagrid's beard. The half-giant beamed his thanks at the headmaster as he carefully placed the tiny egg he had kept for himself into its new home.

Draco rolled his eyes but conjured a small box for his egg. He might not like the idea of taking care of an egg but he got it from Santa, and Draco was too much of a Slytherin to risk his Christmas presents by refusing a gift from the man in charge of the festivities.

All around the Great Hall, students took a leaf out of the blond's book and made nests for their eggs. Older students helped the first and second years. Most conjured boxes like Draco, but the Weasley twins magically grew beards to make beard nests like Dumbledore.

Neville Longbottom had got an egg big enough to house a dragon – Snape was undecided whether to hope it wasn't a dragon egg or look forward to getting free potions ingredients if it was one – and conjured a pram lined with straw.

Luna Lovegood made a hat that held a nest for her egg – medium sized, blue with yellow dots – and several Hufflepuff girls who had got very small eggs wore their little nests on chains like medallions.

Snape went for a traditional bird's nest – his egg was the size of a chicken egg but black and shiny – that hovered above his head, expertly held in place by a spell. Flitwick used the very same spell to keep his egg in place, only did he refrain from using a nest. The resident Charms master warmed his egg with a spell, of course.

"Can you identify the eggs, Hagrid?" Snape asked the half giant, once everybody had settled down to finally eat breakfast. "Which birds can we expect?"

"Unfortunately not," admitted Hagrid. ("What kind of teacher are you?" cried somebody from the Slytherin table.) "They are not right. Take yours. The colour says you have a snitch, but the size is wrong! Or take Harry. A phoenix egg. But not the right size."

Dumbledore advised the children to be very careful with their eggs, especially since they didn't know what kind of bird they were going to get and gave permission to call for a house elf if they needed help once their birds hatched. The elves were instructed to go and get a teacher if there were any potentially dangerous birds or birds they did not know.

Snape left the Great Hall with a feeling of foreboding that day.


	4. 4

4

On the 4th of December, the population of Hogwarts presented a very strange picture at breakfast. There were nests and bags, boxes and sacks hovering in mid-air, hanging around people's necks or standing beside breakfast plates. Even at the head table part of the available space was occupied by the Christmas eggs.

"This is so exciting!" said Hagrid as he petted his egg lovingly between bites of scrambled eggs on toast. "I can't wait for it to hatch!"

"It may take weeks, Hagrid," McGonagall pointed out.

"Oh, no!" the resident seer, Sybil Trelawney, contradicted her. "I saw in the tealeaves as well as in the crystal orb that we should be prepared much sooner! They may even hatch today!" Her own egg was lying in a loop of one of her many shawls. It was about the size of a bludger and light green with a small red spot near the tip of the egg.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I'd have thought the way to predict the hatching of birds is augury," he muttered.

"I considered it," Trelawney admitted, "but my inner eye saw that the topic of hatching is too closely related to the fine art of augury. They would not mix well. Therefore I decided on different means. It is, of course, very difficult to make a precise prediction for the huge amount of eggs we have. If you are interested in a specific date for your egg, Severus, I can read the tea leaves for you." She held out her hand for Snape's cup.

"I drink coffee for breakfast and have done so ever since I started teaching at Hogwarts," Snape informed the witch through gritted teeth.

"Coffee grounds then," the divination teacher offered.

"Definitely not!" Snape growled.

McGonagall chuckled. "Severus wants a surprise, Sybil," she soothed her offended colleague.

"I won't offer again," Trelawney pulled her shawls closer and nearly dropped her egg in the process. "Argh!" she cried as she put it back in its place. "I broke it and it's your fault, Severus!" She pushed her plate away and placed her egg carefully on the table. And really, there was a small crack near the red spot.

"I don't think you broke it," Hagrid leaned closer to see better. "I think it hatches!"

The news that the first egg had a crack travelled through the room with the speed of light and students and teachers alike started to check their eggs.

"Mine too!" somebody cried from the Ravenclaw table and soon more confirmed that, indeed, their eggs were hatching too.

Snape had the presence of mind to get up and advise the children to save the eggshells. "I can show you how to find out whether your eggshell is a useful potions ingredient and what to do with it. We shall make it a project next term."

Only when he had made sure that nothing was wasted he checked his own egg. There was already a long crack that ran almost a full circle around the egg.

Everybody was so excited about the imminent birth of so many birds that the assembled witches and wizards nearly missed the chime of the advent calendar bell. In fact, the bell had to chime a second time before everybody checked their socks.

On that day, Susan Bones of Hufflepuff was the lucky girl who found a number four on her sock. She quickly pulled it off her foot, never taking her eyes off her egg (nearly as big as an ostrich egg, light brown). She reached into the sock and hurried to inform the school that she thought she had the food for the birds.

And really, when she shook her sock, more and more seeds fell out. A little later, small bits of meat followed. Susan and everybody who had their seat near hers made faces.

"Be careful, children," Dumbledore advised. "It seems there are birds of prey among our new pets!"

The sock held not only food though but also perches of various sizes.

The signal for the start of the first lesson came but nobody got up from their seats. Everybody was eager to see their new bird. When a half hour after the signal not a single bird had hatched, Dumbledore cancelled all morning lessons.

It was nearly lunchtime when a young girl squealed "Merlin, look at that! It's so fluffy!" Something that looked like an oversized silky fowl had hatched from her egg.

The next half hour was very hectic. It seemed the various birds had only waited for a start signal. As soon as the first one had left its egg, the others followed.

Dumbledore got something that looked like a pink raven. Hagrid became the proud owner of the tiniest penguin anybody had ever seen. He named it Dave moments after it had hatched.

Snape found himself with a strange creature that looked like an owl but was colourful like a bird of paradise. The annoying thing said "A-hoo-hoo!" whenever it heard somebody talk.

McGonagall's egg had held a pitch black vulture. Draco Malfoy now owned a green swan that breathed fire when Pansy Parkinson tried to pet it. Potter had got something that looked like a dwarf phoenix.

The Weasley twins showed off matching tits.

The racket was mind-numbing. Snape decided that he didn't want lunch if it meant having to eat surrounded by so much noise. "I'm taking my bird to my quarters," he informed Dumbledore. "I hope you can convince the students to not bring their new pets to the lessons."

The headmaster must have succeeded because in the afternoon, Snape got some entirely birdless lessons. In the evening he named his owl of paradise Miles.


	5. 5

Author's note: sorry for the delay, I was busy.

5

"A-hoo-hoo!"

Snape was woken at the crack of dawn by a too cheerful Miles.

"What?" he croaked.

"A-hoo-hoo!" the bird replied dutifully.

"Why are you in my bedroom?" the wizard groaned.

"A-hoo-hoo," he was informed. Ah, yes, he remembered. The ruddy bird had made a racket when Snape had tried to leave him behind at the living room until the wizard had moved the perch – it was delicately decorated, worthy of a present from Santa himself – beside his night stand.

Unhappy, Snape dragged his tired body in a standing position. He gave the owl a handful of seeds. "Here, eat, and shut up. And get used to it. Neither are you coming to breakfast, nor will I take you to my lessons."

"A-hoo-hoo!"

Snape hoped that this was meant to be a thank-you for the food, not a request to be taken around the castle.

Once dressed, the potions master made his way up to the Great Hall. There was no point in waiting in his chambers, after all. At the Head Table, there was at least coffee. And he could use a lot of it.

Snape was the first teacher to arrive, and there were only a couple of Ravenclaw students present. Those were absorbed in a discussion of one matter or other. Two of them had books with them and pointed at pages repeatedly.

Snape decided to ignore them and reached for some coffee. He was on his second cup when one of the Ravenclaws approached him. Lionel Albright, if Snape remembered correctly. "Excuse me, Sir," the boy said politely. "I know it's not your subject but we have a Charms problem and since you are the only teacher present, may I ask you for your help?"

"It's not my area of expertise," Snape pointed out. That would be all he needed, students come and ask him about all subjects. "But if your problem is not too difficult, I may be able to help. Nevertheless, let me point out that your head of house is the resident Charms master."

"We tried to wait, but he seems to take his time today, Sir. He had to come to Ravenclaw tower several times last night. Muriel Abercrombie got a bird whose cry can cause tooth aches and the beast was making a racket every time Terry's cuckoo cried."

"Well, what's your problem?" Snape asked impatiently. He was glad that nobody from Slytherin house had got a dangerous bird. Tooth aches! Really!

"We were studying charms to move several objects at once. Professor Flitwick showed us a flock of winged keys fly in formation. We can copy that. But then he charmed them to fly independently and we do not know how he did that. We have several theories but none of them works!"

Snape hid a snicker. He and his group of Slytherin friends had had a similar discussion when they had studied those spells. Only that Flitwick had demonstrated with slithering scarves in their case. "You may want to have a look at Cheerio Charmer's 'Book of Mayhem', chapter 4, if I remember correctly," he told the student.

"Ah," remarked Dumbledore as he sat beside Snape, "is Filius showing off again?"

"Indeed," confirmed Snape. By now, the hall was starting to fill with students.

By eight o'clock, the hall was full, of course. Snape was disappointed to find out that his socks remained numberless again.

On that day, it was Hermione Granger of Gryffindor who found a number five on her sock. Her present was the smallest so far, and on first sight, it couldn't be shared with the student body. Hermione Granger got a wand.

It had red and white stripes like a sugar cane and small silver sparks were shooting out of it.

"Try it out!" cried one of the Weasley twins. The students agreed. There was still hope that the wand would conjure something of which everybody could profit.

The girl obeyed and pointed the wand into the air and waved it.

Nothing happened. Or seemed to happen.

"Drake-yyyyy!" Parkinson of Slytherin squealed and everybody looked at the blond. A twig of mistletoe was hovering above his head. Before the boy could react, Parkinson had fallen on his neck and was snogging him for all she was worth. The moment her lips connected with his, though, the twig disappeared only to be discovered hovering above Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff a moment later.

A kiss from Susan Bones sent the twig over to the Gryffindor table. Neville Longbottom blushed crimson.

By the time Parvati Patil was smooching the embarrassed boy, Snape and Dumbledore were trying to shoulder past each other at the side door through which the teachers could enter without having to walk up between the house tables.

Potter was the next to catch on. "Run!" he cried. Ever the Gryffindor, he didn't realise that his chance to get away was greater if he went alone. Many made a scramble for the doors. Santa's magic wouldn't have it though. The doors slammed shut – neither Dumbledore nor Snape had managed to get out – and all the assembled witches and wizards could do was wait the mayhem out.

"Try to banish it, Ms Granger!" cried McGonagall, but it seemed the wand had only been good for that one spell.

In the end, Snape was kissed by Sprout (ewwww!), Trelawney (double ewwwwww!) and Vector (acceptable). The twig, it turned out, had no qualms to victimize one wizard several times. It disappeared, to everybody's delight after exactly an hour.

As soon as the doors opened, everybody scurried to run to their lessons.


	6. 6

6

The next day, Severus Snape intended to stay in his quarters until a couple of minutes before eight. After the last day's traumatizing experience, he didn't feel like making much small talk with his colleagues.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

He had barely left his bed (A-hoo-hoo!) when there was a knock on the door.

Draco Malfoy was looking dishevelled in his powdery blue silk pyjamas and open light grey bathrobe. His hair was in disarray, his left foot was in a white fur slipper, his right one was bare; and he was using one hand to fight off Pansy Parkinson.

"Sir!" he pleaded, "I need your help. Please, tell her that you have to stop kissing once the mistletoe is gone!"

"Miss Parkinson!" Snape barked. "What have you done? Haven't your parents taught you any dignity?" He looked at the Malfoy heir questioningly.

"The magic on the dormitories still works, don't worry, Sir," the blond reassured his head of house. "I was granted a pleasant night of sleep but she was upon me again as soon as I left the dormitories."

"Miss Parkinson, you will stop assaulting Mr Malfoy this moment! I will write to your father. He may want to organize some remedial lessons in decorum for you over the Christmas holidays!"

The girl blanched. "But Sir! Greeting my fiancé with a good morning kiss is not against any rules!"

"I am not your fiancé!" snarled the Malfoy heir. "I'd never marry a person who doesn't know how to behave. You have no self-control at all!"

"Draaaacoooooo!" the girl whined.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Parkinson, you will proceed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Now! And you, Mr Malfoy, go and make yourself presentable!"

"Thank you, Sir," the blond boy breathed when Parkinson stalked off to the Great Hall.

Snape sighed and closed the door. He could not very well order the girl to the Great Hall at the crack of dawn and leave her there alone. After a quick shower (A-hoo-hoo!) he got dressed and hurried up to keep Pansy Parkinson company.

Luckily, he didn't need to make conversation with the young witch. When Snape arrived, she was already engaged in a discussion with her housemate Millicent Bulstrode.

"Severus, you are early today," McGonagall greeted him.

The potions master informed her about Mr Malfoy's state and the witch chuckled in all the right places. She particularly liked the part about the lost slipper. "Well, for the rest of us it was at least over after an hour," she chuckled.

"That blasted mistletoe didn't hover above your head," Snape pointed out.

"No, it only went for wizards," the deputy headmistress agreed. "You forgive me that I didn't kiss you, don't you?"

"I've known you since I was a little boy," Snape replied. "It would have been strange. Although I have to admit that I would prefer you over Trelawney any day."

McGonagall laughed. "You know how to charm a lady, young man."

Little by little the Great Hall filled with people. Snape couldn't help the notion that some people were avoiding each other. Trelawney tried to sit beside him when she arrived but Flitwick saved the potions master by claiming the seat beside him right from under her nose.

When the advent calendar bell chimed, everybody checked their socks again. The Weasley twins once again made a show of checking each other's.

That day Cho Chang from Ravenclaw was the lucky person whose sock had been turned into an advent calendar window. The girl took it off self-consciously and reached inside gingerly.

Snape was relieved when she pulled a roll of parchment out of the sock. Parchment was harmless enough. The first roll was soon followed by a second and a third and soon it was clear there was one for everybody present.

Cho Chang, ever the Ravenclaw, asked her housemates for help. This was why everybody got their roll in record time. The girl pulled roll after roll from her sock and her friends handed them out, getting help from other houses in the process.

Snape was handed his roll by Anthony Goldstein, one of his favourite students. The boy was not brilliant in Snape's subject but he was a very diligent worker and you could rely on him producing a good enough potion every time he set foot in Snape's classroom. If only he had a little more intuition and creativity when it came to potions, he might be good enough for a career in the field.

Curious, Snape unrolled his parchment. There was music on it.

"Splendid!" cried Dumbledore who had unrolled his own parchment mere moments before Snape. "It seems we are supposed to sing a Christmas carol together!"

They were not.

It turned out that people hadn't got music for the same song.

"Why don't we try to sort into groups of people who have the same song?" Cho Chang suggested in a clear voice.

"What an excellent idea!" cried Dumbledore. "I have 'Silent Night'. Everybody with the same song, come up here, please!"

It took the better part of a quarter hour but then the Hogwarts population was divided in twelve groups, each for a different Christmas song. "Wonderful!" cried Dumbledore. "Why don't the groups meet during lunch break to practice their song? We can have a concert after dinner! I'll instruct the house elves to serve lunch wherever you meet!"

Snape rolled his eyes. He was stuck in a group with Potter and Malfoy. To make matters worse, there were Chang, the Weasley girl, Parkinson and Azalea Nott. Both boys found themselves the centers of cat fights and tried to hide behind their potions master.

"I will not be involved in your jouvenile love triangles," Snape snapped and stepped away from the two boys. "Miss Chang, this is your Christmas treat, I suggest you take control of your choir instead of glaring at Miss Weasley."

The Ravenclaw once again proved her talent in organizing things. Within five minutes, everybody was off to their lessons, knowing that they were supposed to meet at the potions classroom for lunch. Snape had tried to suggest a different room but Chang would not have it. "It's your room, Sir. If another group has chosen the same room, you have the right to send them away. It's an advantage we have for no other room in the castle. It would be unwise not to use it."

To say that lunch was torture would be an understatement. Snape had to eat surrounded by students. He hated their song (Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer) and he had to step between Malfoy and Potter and their would-be girlfriends repeatedly.

To make matters worse, it turned out that Chang was a perfectionist when it came to music and the potions master was told off for not singing good enough repeatedly.

Dinner could not come soon enough.


	7. 7

7

The next day, Snape was forced to watch Draco Malfoy present a luxurious silk sock with a golden number seven on it. Once again, he – Snape – had not be chosen to get a present out of the advent calendar.

Of course Snape was pleased that one of his own house had been the lucky one to get today's window but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit a feeling of glee when the blond boy pulled his hand out of his sock with an outcry of pain.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Malfoy heir complained. "I'm supposed to get a nice present!"

"Don't be a baby, Malfoy," Potter crowed from the Gryffindor table. "Show us what you have there!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Potter," sneered the young Slytherin with just enough innuendo in his voice to make Gryffindor's golden boy blush.

"You wish!" accused Potter.

"Oh, I love it when you're playing hard to get," Draco pushed. He smirked at the dark haired boy.

Snape had had enough. "Can you keep your flirting for when I don't have to listen?" he barked.

"Severus!" Dumbledore and McGonagall admonished in unison.

"What?" complained the potions master. "It's true! They flirt at every opportunity they get. I had to sing with them yesterday. I'm not sure whether they are genuinely interested in each other or using each other to make their fangirls jealous. Anyway, it's disgusting!"

"You are just jealous," accused Potter, not one to take an insult quietly.

"Ha-haaa!" crowed Snape. "There! He admits it!"

"Draacoooo!" whined the Parkinson girl.

Ginny Weasley preferred a more practical approach and slapped Potter.

"Ow! What was that for?" cried the wizarding hero, holding his cheek.

"If you have to ask, you deserved that," cried the redhead.

"What is in that sock now?" roared Dumbledore, his voice magically amplified. The fighting students turned to him.

Draco reached into his sock once again, this time more careful, and produced a twig of holly. Of course there was not only one twig, but enough to decorate the whole hall.

Several girls squealed with delight and praised the young Slytherin for receiving such a wonderful gift. "We can make garlands!" cried a young Hufflepuff.

"That's servants' work," complained the Malfoy heir. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because it's fun, silly!" cried Daphne Greengrass. "Would you like me to hand out the materials while you get them from your sock?"

"Please," Draco agreed. He had no desire whatsoever to keep all the underbrush to himself.

First, every house table received holly for their garlands, then tinsel, mistletoe – Dumbledore threatened to personally turn anybody who tried to place some above another person into a flamingo for a week – and an assortment of ribbons.

Some of the teachers knew how to make garlands. They went to the house tables to instruct the students. Snape didn't feel like tinkering and stayed at the head table to watch.

Once Miss Greengrass realised that several teachers hadn't joined the students, she made sure to provide them with their own materials, and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

This was why Snape spent the next hour holding holly and mistletoe for Dumbledore to wrap in red ribbons. He didn't enjoy that sort of work but he had to admit that the Great Hall looked very festive once all the garlands were up.

Many students complained about having pricked their fingers with the holly leaves. Snape volunteered, since he was sure there was no escape anyway, to show the students how to brew a salve to soothe the pain.

Dumbledore had the house elves bring the required ingredients and cauldrons and with the help of the other teachers Snape taught the most impressive potions lesson Hogwarts had ever seen. Every single student of the school was brewing at the same time!

"I now need the seventh years to team up with a first year. The other years may work alone," Snape instructed. "You all need some chopped daisy roots now and to stir in figure eights. The first year haven't learned that stirring technique yet. Therefore they will chop a double portion of daisy root, one portion for their own potion and one for their seventh year partner. In return, the seventh year will stir the first year's potion."

It was done like Snape had instructed and by the end of the lesson, every single student had a cauldron full of excellent salve. Flitwick, McGonagall and Dumbledore helped the students conjure small pots for their brews.

"This will make a wonderful gift for my Mum," said one of the first year Hufflepuffs and everybody around him agreed. More pots were conjured and presents for parents, grandparents and aunts were made.

"Potions is an extremely useful subject, Severus," Vector pointed out. "And I had no idea how closely you have to pay attention to what your students do! You must be exhausted after a whole day of teaching!"

Snape confirmed that he usually was.

"Maybe I could brew you some coffee after lessons to help you recover," Vector offered.

"That would be very kind of you," Snape replied.

"It would be my pleasure," the witch batted her lashes.

Snape was just going to reply that, no, the pleasure was all his, when Potter interrupted their conversation with a snort of "Ha, who's flirting now!"

"It seems, Septima," growled Snape, "that I won't have time for coffee since I'll have to oversee Potter's detention."

"You'd forgo a date for me?" Potter mocked.

"Any day," Snape was seething.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished, "it would be very impolite to decline Septima's offer. Why don't I watch over Harry's detention in your place?"

"I want him to clean cauldrons by hand!" Snape said strictly.

"And clean them he shall," Dumbledore promised.

Snape was sure that the old wizard had already a loophole in mind to get Potter out of trouble, but truth to be told, he didn't care about Potter very much. He had a date in the evening after all!


	8. 8

8

The first thing Snape did the next morning was go to the potions classroom and check the cauldrons Potter had been supposed to clean. They were spotless but miraculously the brush and cloths Snape provided for cleaning were dry and in exactly where Snape had left them.

Determinded to give Dumbledore a piece of his mind, Snape stomped up to the Great Hall.

"Albus," growled the potions master without greeting the older wizard first. Dumbledore looked up from his scrambled eggs.

"Severus, my boy!" he cried merrily. "Do sit down and try those wonderful scrambled eggs! They are particularly fluffy today!"

"Don't change topic," Snape snarled. "Why did you clean the cauldrons Potter was supposed to scrub? Do you have any idea what your residual magic could do to a potion? These cauldrons are useless for at least a week. And Potter has learned nothing about being polite."

"You are trying to teach our students politeness by making them brush cauldrons?" Dumbledore's brows disappeared beneath his hairline. "I don't think this is going to work!"

"They are behaving well enough, don't they? Most at least." Snape reached for some coffee before he followed Dumbledore's advice and tried the scrambled eggs. They were, indeed, even better than usual. "Has anything upset the house elves that they put more energy into beating the eggs today?" he asked.

"I didn't think of that!" cried Dumbledore. He summoned a house elf and asked whether everything was in order in the kitchens.

The small creature wrung his hands. "Some house elves are upset," he then admitted. Dumbledore had to stop him from beating his head on the leg of Snape's chair.

"Why is that so?" asked the headmaster kindly.

"House elves feel that Dobby is besmirching their reputation," the small creature burst out.

"Dobby? The free elf? What has he done?" asked Dumbledore.

"Dobby says," and the house elf looked left and right as if to make sure nobody heard him but the headmaster, "he says that he has socks, too, and he wants to be in the Great Hall for the advent calendar!" The little servant looked up at the bell fearfully. "But the advent calendar is for witches and wizards not house elves!"

Dumbledore stroked his long beard. "It never said it was not for house elves, actually," he said. "Tell Dobby I want him to be present on behalf of the house elves. I won't give the rest of you socks, of course."

The house elves looked scandalized at the very idea. "We did nothing to deserve clothes!" he cried.

"Exactly! You are all wonderful house elves. Therefore Dobby will have to stand in for all of you. Please inform him!"

Snape wanted to pull his hair. Another person present meant his chance of getting an advent calendar window was even lower!

Dobby appeared by the headmaster's side five seconds before the bell chimed, and Snape didn't even bother to look down at his socks. He saw golden sparks surround the house elf's right foot as a number eight appeared out of nowhere on his maroon sock.

"Santa Claus is liking house elves! Dobby knew!" the elf cried merrily.

At an encouraging gesture of Dumbledore, he took off his sock and started to pull out the day's gift.

There was wool and enough knitting needles not only for all witches and wizards but also for all the house elves.

"Now every house elf can knit a scarf for themselves!" cried Dobby excitedly.

Dumbledore looked at one of the house elves who had come to help Dobby transport their share of the present to the kitchens questioningly. "I don't want anybody to feel they got clothes against their will. Will this be alright?" he asked.

The little elf beamed. "House elves are allowed to knit scarves and blankets," he nodded. "But not socks and hats!" He glared at Dobby.

"Why would I want to knit?" Draco Malfoy complained when one of the students who were helping to hand out the gift gave him needles and a big ball of wool. The wool turned a powdery blue the moment he touched it.

"Because Santa himself wants you to?" Crabbe was already unrolling his Slytherin green wool. "I have no idea how, though."

"I know how to knit," cried Hermione Granger. Several other girls, and surprisingly Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, cried that so did they.

Snape had to admit that the student body had amazing organisational skills if the children put their minds to it. Within minutes groups had been formed with one instructor and a couple of children who had to learn how to knit.

Snape himself was part of a group instructed by Granger. There were two reasons why he had decided to join this group. Firstly, the alternative had been being taught how to knit by Trelawney, and secondly, Potter and Malfoy had ended up in the group. How those two managed to be in the same knitting circle when they had started out on different house tables was beyond Snape but he certainly wasn't going to leave them unsupervised.

The first half hour of knitting was excruciating. Everything was new and more than once Granger had to interrupt instructing the potions master to avert some catastrophe for another group member. Potter and Weasley dropped stitches repeatedly.

Draco Malfoy surprised everybody like taking to knitting like a duck to water. Granger explained only once what he had to do and five minutes later the blond was knitting like he had been practicing from a young age, conversing with his head of house about the advantages of various patterns.

Snape could have throttled the boy. Who cared about patterns when the next stitch was trying to escape? Snape could tell within minutes that knitting was not going to become his personal hobby.

The wool Santa had provided them with was truly magical though and that gave the witches and wizards motivation to stay put and do their best.

All the balls had been a dull grey when they were pulled from the sock but as soon as the person who was going to actually use them, they changed colours.

Malfoy got that powdery blue that went so well with his pale complexion. Potter's wool turned the colour of his eyes – "A secret admiration for Slytherin, Potter?" Snape had to intervene to prevent Draco from being stabbed with a knitting needle – and Granger's wool had turned a nice shade of lilac the moment she started to work.

Snape's wool had turned, much to his delight, pitch black. As much as he appreciated the choice of colour or lack thereof from a fashionista point of view, it was a nightmare from a knitter's. The black made it difficult to see the stitches properly and Snape felt he had to work harder than everybody else to make his scarf.

When the bell to the first lesson chimed, Dumbledore got up – his knitting project was twinkling in all the colours of the rainbow – and advised everybody to leave their project on the tables. He cast spells to prevent anybody but the owner from touching a piece and sent everybody to class.

Lunch break was spent knitting and after dinner everybody stayed in the Great Hall to continue with their work.

In the end Snape was among the last to leave. Granger had shown him how to put fringes on the ends of his scarf and Snape thought it would be a pity to put so much work into his new scarf and then shy away from the work to decorate it a little.

Once Snape was done, a small Slytherin green potions phial and a wand appeared at one end of the scarf.

"That's lovely!" cried Granger. Her own scarf was decorated with a small book that had magically appeared when she had finished it.

Satisfied with the result of his work, Snape took his new scarf down to the dungeons. It was particularly fluffy and he looked forward to wearing it.


	9. 9

9

Although he had gone to bed at an ungodly hour, Severus Snape was among the first to rise the next day, not of his own accord, mind you.

He was woken by somebody slamming their fist at the door to his quarters. When the irate head of Slytherin house yanked the door open, he was faced with an even more irate head of Gryffindor house.

"Severus Snape!" Minerva McGonagall hissed at the potions master dangerously, "I demand you do something this instant!"

"What has happened now," Snape waved the woman inside. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have, seeing that he was still in his nightshirt but he didn't think it would be a good thing for the students to see him in the hall with a female colleague, the latter in her dressing gown.

"Somebody – one of your Slytherins undoubtedly, if I had to guess a name I'd say Malfoy – has started a rumour that Santa gave Harry Potter a killing curse coloured scarf!"

Snape chuckled. Very creative! He had to remember to award Malfoy some points later during the day.

"This is not a laughing matter!" complained McGonagall. "I have barely slept all night! Half of Hufflepuff house is scared of Potter and half of Gryffindor is plotting to get rid of the new dark lord in their midst!"

Snape was serious at once. They could not risk anybody hurting the saviour to be because of something Malfoy had said.

"Excuse me for a moment," he huffed and disappeared back into his bedroom. Two minutes later he was back, fully clad in his teaching robes. McGonagall had meanwhile transfigured her dressing gown into her most dignified tartan robes.

"Malfoy!" Snape snapped as he stormed into the Slytherin Common Room, McGonagall on his heel. "What have you done now?"

"What am I accused of, Sir?" the Malfoy heir was sitting on one of the sofas near the fireplace, waiting for his friends to go up to breakfast. A true Slytherin, he was not going to admit anything that was not proven to him.

"Did you or did you not say that Potter's scarf is avada-green?" Snape snapped. They did not have time for silly games.

"I wish I had thought of it," Malfoy admitted without batting a lash, "but alas, I didn't. I think it was the poltergeist who started the whole thing. At least I hadn't heard it from anyone else before I met him in the Great Hall."

"Do you believe him?" McGonagall asked as she followed Snape back into the corridor.

"He wouldn't give credit for an idea he clearly thinks hilarious to the poltergeist if it had been his," Snape pointed out. It was, in his opinion, Draco's greatest weakness.

"Where are we going, Severus?" asked McGonagall. She had to run to keep up with a peeved Snape.

"Looking for the Bloody Baron," Snape snapped. He stopped sharp after turning the next corner and McGonagall collided with his back. "Baron," Snape said solemnly and the head of Gryffindor had to wonder how he managed to sound so collected when she had trouble catching her breath. "May I ask a favour?"

The Slytherin house ghost bowed to the potions master. "Anything for the Head of the Noble House of Slytherin. How can I be of service?"

"It seems Peeves has caused a disturbance once more," Snape explained. "It would be very helpful if I could speak to him directly."

"I shall bring him before you as soon as I find him," the baron promised.

"You will find me…" Snape looked at his colleague for advice. "At the Great Hall," McGonagall provided. The baron acknowledged the information and glided into the closest wall.

"Really, Minerva," Snape questioned as the two teachers made their way to breakfast, "is it wise to make him bring Peeves to a hall full of students?"

"Are you willing to miss the advent calendar?" McGonagall asked. "Merlin knows how long it will take the baron to find that poltergeist!"

Snape had to admit that, no, he did not want to miss the advent calendar. And it was even possible that it took hours to find the troublesome spectre, which would mean that he missed the calendar for nothing. No, it was far better to tell the baron to bring Peeves to the Great Hall and have to wait there after breakfast.

Just as Snape and McGonagall had anticipated, there was no trace from Peeves by the time 8 o'clock rolled around. Waiting for the bell to chime had been an excruciating task that morning. Student were trying to leave as much space as possible between themselves and Potter (but Potter's friends of course), and there was, indeed, a bunch of Gryffindors who were so obviously scheming that any decent Slytherin would be ashamed of their lack of stealth. Snape just hoped that he wouldn't ever have to rely on any Gryffindor's acting abilities. From the Slytherin table people were teasing the wizarding hero to be.

When the bell chimed, everybody checked their socks. It was Hogwarts' own Charms teacher, Filius Flitwick, who got that day's window (or rather sock).

"Marvellous!" the small wizard cried excitedly as he removed his shoe and then his sock. He made a show of shaking his sock. "No smell!" he cried enthusiastically. "I can you all teach the charm!"

Snape rolled his eyes and Fred Weasley voiced what everybody was thinking: "Stop shaking that sock and find out what is in it!"

Flitwick chuckled good-naturedly and reached into his sock. "Look!" he squealed when he pulled his hand out. He held up a delicate glass bauble filled with snow flakes and twinkling lights.

The students oohed. "It's beautiful!" cried a girl from the Gryffindor table, Snape thought he recognised Granger's voice.

"And there are more!" cried Flitwick.

The next half hour was spent handing out the most beautiful glass ornaments Snape had ever seen. The younger students fetched them from the head table and the older ones added them to the decorations that had already been put up. The Great Hall looked extremely festive.

Everybody had just settled down to enjoy the result of their joint efforts when the Bloody Baron glided down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. He was followed by none other than Peeves the Poltergeist.

"Peeves, Head of Slytherin," the Baron said in his deep rumbling voice before he turned on the spot and left the hall through on of the walls.

"Peeves," Snape said sternly, "have you scared our students by starting a rumour that Potter's scarf was killing curse green?"

"Wee Potty is going to kill you all!" Peeves nodded vigorously.

"Nonsense!" barked Snape. "I am the Head of Slytherin and who but I would be able to distinguish Slytherin green from any other tone of green? The scarf is Slytherin green!"

"That's what Potter wants you to think!" Peeves blew a raspberry and did a somersault in midair.

"Enough!" Snape pointed his wand at the poltergeist and with a silent spell banished him into one of the glass spheres they had just hung up.

Dumbledore got up and clapped his hands. "Well done, Severus!" he cried. "As much as I appreciate a little bit of merry chaos from time to time, Christmas is not the time for it!"

McGonagall followed the headmaster's lead and soon Snape was blushing as he got a standing ovation from the assembled student body.


	10. 10

10

The next morning Snape went to breakfast with a feeling anticipation. It was already the 10th! And certainly Santa was going to give him an advent calendar window at some point!

He was in for a disappointment because on that particular day, Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff was chosen to get a present from his sock.

The tall boy crossed his legs and bent down to untie his shoe.

"I hope you used that sock refreshing charm we learned yesterday!" somebody from the Ravenclaw table teased good-naturedly.

"Bertram," Diggory called back, "I knew that Charm by third year. I secretly cast it on your socks every time we were in the same locker room!"

"Touché!" Bertram Follery laughed.

After the shoe, Diggory pulled off a black and yellow striped sock. There beside the Hufflepuff coat of arms, was a big number 10. The boy reached inside the sock and retrieved a book.

"Which book is that?" called Granger from the Gryffindor table. Of course the resident bookworm wanted to know which book Santa had chosen to give to a student.

"How to grow your own fungi," Diggory read out. "That's great! My Dad and I were talking about trying to grow sponge fungi just last summer!"

So Diggory got a personal present? Snape couldn't believe it!

The boy reached into the sock again, and to Snape's relief, pulled out another book.

"Anyone interested in 'Unseeing what you didn't want to see'?" he held up a small booklet.

"I have been looking for a book like that for ages!" cried Sybill Trelawney.

One of Diggory's friends took the book and brought it up to the Divination teacher. "Wonderful!" cried the witch and started to read immediately.

Meanwhile Diggory had pulled several copies of 'Care of Muggle Pets' out of the sock and they went to various students from all houses but Slytherin.

By then it was clear, there was a book for everybody. Snape was all anticipation. He just hoped he didn't get anything on how to wash his hair or any other cosmetic guidebook. That would be humiliating.

It was worse. When nobody wanted to admit that they were interested in "20 sophisticated ways to impress your dream-witch", Diggory opened the book and it had Snape's name in it!

Snape blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Be careful, girls," cried a boy from the Gryffindor table. "The professor is armed now!"

Snape didn't recognize the voice but if he made all of Gryffindor pay, he was going to get the right person. Still blushing, he shoved the booklet into his pocket.

"You are so lucky, Severus," sighed Dumbledore beside him. "All I got is 'Brew your own joint balm'."

"I would have chosen that any day over what I got," sighed Snape. "I should have said I want it when it was on offer."

"Would you be interested in swapping?" asked Dumbledore eagerly. "I'd consider it a favour."

"Who are you going to woe, you sly dog?" asked Snape as he handed Dumbledore the book hastily.

"Oh," the headmaster said merrily, "I just want it for academic reasons."

They were in for a bad surprise though. As soon as Dumbledore touched the book, it changed into a copy of "Brew your own joint balm". When he handed it back, disappointment written all over his face, it changed back.

"It seems, Santa insists to mock me," sighed Snape.

"You never know who comes along," McGonagall told him from the other side.

Snape snorted but then followed everybody's lead and opened his book.

The first chapter explained how to organise a romantic picnic outside during a snow storm. Hmmmm, a picnic in a snow storm. That sounded like something Septima Vector would like. Snape was itching to try out the spells given in the book. Some of them required a considerable amount of power and he really wanted to know whether he could master them.

"Septima," he walked over to the Arithmancy teacher, "would you be interested in joining me for a little picnic in the evening?"

The witch beamed at him. "I would be delighted, Severus!"

Somebody wolf whistled. Oh yes, Gryffindor was going to pay!

Snape spent the rest of his Sunday preparing that picnic and plotting how to make every Gryffindor miserable who was unlucky enough to have to step inside his classroom.

The picnic was a great success though. Septima was very impressed with Snape's spell casting and had brought a nice bottle of wassail.

"We really have to repeat this, Severus," she muttered dipsily as she leaned on the potions master for a little more warmth. (It had been difficult to put enough control into the temperature spell to make the environment cosy enough to enjoy but cold enough to evoke the desire to snuggle.)

"I'd love to, Septima," Snape muttered back, "but this is not the only scenario in my book. Would you be interested in helping me to try out the others? For academic reasons?"

"I wouldn't want to hinder your explorations of magic, would I," smiled the witch. "Does your book say that you have to put your arms around me when I snuggle up?"

"Forgive me," Snape hurried to apologize and pull the witch closer. "I'm sure it was somewhere in there but your presence made me forget the book."

The witch chuckled.

It was a long evening.


	11. 11

11

The next day Snape had to pay the price for having a tête-à-tête on a Sunday evening. He nearly missed the advent calendar bell!

First he overslept, then he had to deal with a house elf who was trying to iron her ears as a punishment for not waking the potions master (although he had never made such a request). Then he could not find his left shoe. The last thing he remembered was returning to the castle with Septima in tow and ending up in front of his fireplace. After several minutes of hectic search – the wailing house elf was not helpful, nor was the racket Miles was making – he found the missing shoe under his sofa, beside Septima's right glove. Snape pocketed the glove quickly, intent on giving it back discretely and rushed towards the Great Hall.

He was not even halfway down the aisle between the house tables, robes billowing dramatically, when the bell chimed.

Of course, on a day like that, Snape didn't get to open the advent calendar. The potions master was glad. In his hurry he had put on only one sock! Therefore he was glad that nobody was going to pay attention to his footwear that day.

Snape was just sitting down at the head table in his usual spot, when Dean Thomas cried out excitedly at the Gryffindor table. "I got it!"

Everybody watched as the boy took off his sock and reached into it. What he pulled out of it, was a small wooden donkey. The donkey was followed by a small wooden man, then came a lamb and soon it was clear what the boy had got in his sock.

"A nativity scene!" Lavender Brown cried excitedly.

"And we are supposed to colour the figurines!" cried Ginny Weasley and clapped her hands when Thomas started to pull brushes and small jars of paint out of his sock.

By now the students had developed a routine. Handing out the materials took barely half the time it had taken at the beginning of the month.

Snape got a little shepherd to colour. Dumbledore had a lamb, McGonagall was in charge of an angel.

With the routine of a man used to working diligently with his hands, Snape gave his shepherd blue eyes, blond hair and brownish clothes. "Where do I put it now?" he asked when he was done.

"We can transfigure a landscape for all those little people," McGonagall suggested while she tried hard to get her angel's wings right.

"Can't the students do that?" asked the potions master.

"An excellent suggestion," agreed the headmaster. His lamb was pitch black but for the white of its eyes. "Very pedagogical." He waited until most of the students had put down their brushes before he explained what they needed.

It was amazing how the students had learned to work together. The older students took charge and made the rough outline of the landscape since transfiguring a big and complex object was too difficult for the younger years. The younger students made small objects that were needed such as mangers for the sheep and baby Jesus, bags and canes for the shepherds, and trumpets for the angels. The youngest, who didn't know much magic after only little over three months of magical education, took over the task of placing the small figures on the landscape.

"You are an artist, Professor!" cried a tiny Ravenclaw girl when she took Snape's shepherd to place him in the middle of a herd of sheep. "Your figure is easily the most beautiful!"

"Bootlicker!" one of her classmates admonished her but the girl was not easily cowed.

"But it is true! Look!" She showed Snape's shepherd to the boy and he admitted that Snape had done a great job.

"Thank you, Miss Lang," Snape said with dignity and then excused himself. He inched closer to Septima.

"Do you miss anything?" he muttered close to her ear, to softly for any of the students to hear.

"My glove," the witch whispered back. "Is it okay if I pick it up at your quarters after dinner?"

"After dinner would be very convenient," nodded Snape and shoved the glove he had been holding back in to his pocket.

The day couldn't end soon enough for the potions master. He was still tired and he didn't have any free period on Mondays to relax a little. Like always, when he was tired, lessons dragged on endlessly.

Finally, he had made it to dinner. The nativity scene – it was certainly the biggest Snape had ever seen with its hundreds of figures – had been moved in front of the Head Table. That way it was easily accessible for all students and no house had reason to feel discriminated against.

After the meal, Snape hurried down to his quarters, glad that he didn't have to patrol the corridors that evening.

"A-hoo-hoo!" Miles greeted him, when he rushed inside.

Snape gave the colourful owl a handful of seeds into its bowl and was rewarded with an affectionate nibble on his fingers.

Septima arrived little later and, although she pointed out that she didn't have time to stay too long, was not averse to a nice glass of wine.

"It would be a pity," Snape pointed out, "if you had come all the way down her only to pick up a glove." He pointed at the glove which he had placed on the mantle.

"That's true, Severus," agreed the witch. "And you can't go wrong with a small glass of wine."

Once again, Severus Snape retired to bed rather late.


	12. 12

12

On Tuesday Snape proved that he wasn't a potions master for nothing. As soon as he stirred, a house elf handed him a vial of wakefulness potion, as Snape had instructed before going to bed. A quarter hour later, Snape left his bedroom, freshly showered and for once carefully dressed, not that that made much of a difference with his voluminous teaching robes hiding the rest of his outfit; but it felt better somehow to know that he had had time to give every single button on his shirt the attention it deserved.

After feeding Miles and making a little conversation with the owl – A-hoo-hoo! – Snape went up to the Great Hall at leisure. He was among the first to arrive, only the headmaster and a couple of Hufflepuff boys were already breaking their fast.

"Severus, my boy," the headmaster greeted him jovially. "Come and help me sample these delicacies!" The house elves had made an assortment of small pasties for breakfast and Dumbledore, renowned for his sweet tooth, was eating his way through them with relish. "Look, this one has a filling of raisins and nuts!"

Snape sat beside the older wizard and helped himself to one of the sweet morsels. Not that he particularly cared for sweet breakfast dishes but he knew Albus well enough to know that the old man would only be satisfied when Snape had one on his plate.

Snape was just reaching for his cup for a first sip of coffee, when he felt it. His dark mark was burning.

"I'm being called," he whispered to Dumbledore. "And it feels urgent!"

"Then go," advised the old wizard. "and try to come back in time for the calendar."

Snape gasped. In a little over an hour, the bell was going to chime! What if this was the day Santa had planned to give him, Severus Snape, his calendar window?

The potions master left the castle at a run and apparated to his other superior's side as soon as he had left the grounds. To his utter surprise he didn't find himself at Malfoy Manor, as he had expected but in a small flat in the middle of London.

"Master," he bowed to the Dark Lord.

"Severus," hissed the dark wizard turning from the coffee machine and facing his newly arrived servant, "rumour has it that Hogwarts got another advent calendar. Why was I not informed?"

"My Lord," Snape accepted the cup of coffee the other wizard handed him and took a sip. Voldemort appreciated a show of trust and Snape knew it. The Dark Lord was a great coffee maker. The brew was dark and rich in flavour, just like Snape loved it. "I'd have brought you the information had I considered it useful. The calendar however is linked with the socks of those present in the Great Hall. There is no way you can get to open a window or you'd have to come to Hogwarts. Dumbledore would never allow it!"

"Nor would I want to meet the old fool," agreed Voldemort. "It's enough that I have to tolerate him at Santa's Christmas Parties." The Dark Lord and his followers had been invited to Hogwarts to celebrate Christmas repeatedly, courtesy to Santa Claus himself. "There is a way, of course, and I am not surprised you didn't see it. It takes a great mind to think the unthinkable."

Snape gritted his teeth. Normally he didn't tolerate people calling him stupid to his face but it seemed prudent to make an exception for the Dark Lord.

"What is the solution you found, my Lord?" he asked.

"You will wear my socks, of course!" cried the other wizard. He hopped to sit on the kitchen counter, took off his plush snake slippers and rolled down his bright green socks. "Here!"

Snape sat on a stool obediently, and put on the socks he was handed. His own, he stuffed into his pocket.

"Excellent," cried the Dark Lord once it was done. He hopped down from the counter and busied himself preparing a sandwich. "Now off to Hogwarts, Severus! And don't forget to bring my sock back unopened if it turns out to be the advent calendar window!"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape hurried to reassure the dark wizard and left at top speed. If he hurried, he could make it to the Great Hall in time.

The potions master was pleased when he realised he still had a couple of minutes to spare when he sat down beside Dumbledore for the second time that day.

"What did he want?" asked the old wizard. "Here, I kept you some pasties!" He handed Snape a plate full of them. "These are filled with apricot jam! They are the best!"

Snape thanked the headmaster and bit into a pasty. There was, indeed, apricot jam in it and it was delicious. "He wants to be part of our advent calendar," the potions master reported. "I'm wearing his socks. It's disgusting!"

"Indeed," agreed Dumbledore after a look at Snape's feet. "That colour doesn't go with your outfit at all."

Snape rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, the advent calendar bell chimed and everybody started looking for the number 12.

Severus was relieved that the Dark Lord's sock hadn't changed at all. Neither of them was the calendar sock of the day.

"Has everybody checked their socks?" Dumbledore asked when nobody came forth as the day's window winner.

The students as well as the teachers confirmed that, yes, they had checked but nobody had found a number 12 on their socks.

"That's impossible," McGonagall pointed out. "The letter said that one of the people in the hall will find a number every day. Is there anybody absent?"

A quick head count revealed that the whole population of Hogwarts was there, including Filch.

"Has anybody forgotten to put on socks?" asked the deputy headmistress. Nobody had.

"What can it be?" the witch sighed.

"I even checked the extra socks I brought!" cried Fred Weasley, and his twin confirmed that he, too, had done so.

That was when Snape remembered. He had his own socks in his pocket and he had not looked at them! He retrieved his – very black – socks and really, there, on the right one there was a golden number 12!

"I found it!" the potions master cried excitedly.

"Congratulations!" smiled Dumbledore. "Now let's see what you've got!"

Snape's sock, it turned out, held a huge number of letters. There was one for each person present but also many for family and friends, and even some for the Dark Lord and his followers.

"These must be the invitations for the Christmas party!" cried Harry Potter.

Snape agreed. His rotten luck that his advent calendar window held something as mundane as party invitations. Once all the letters to people outside the castle had been attached to owls' feet – the students worked as a team again but the sheer number of birds caused mayhem; Miles had turned up when Dumbledore called for post owls and Snape made him take the Dark Lord's letter; the dark wizard was going to appreciate Snape sending his personal owl – Snape opened his own.

It was, indeed, a party invitation but there was also a post scriptum.

"Severus," the letter said, "I told Tom that I will not be cheated in such an idiotic and disgusting way. If he wants any presents in the future, you will not have to wear his socks for him any longer. As for the pair you have, I suggest you use them for your potions. I'm sure you know a recipe that requires foot perspiration of a dark wizard. If not, I left a book on your mantle to give you some ideas. Don't tell anybody you got it, or they'll all expect a personal advent calendar gift."

The potions master had to use all his acting skills to get up calmly and not run off screaming his excitement at people. "Albus," he told his superior, "I think I'll go and wash my feet before the lessons start."

Dumbledore agreed that this was a good idea.

In his quarters, Snape found the promised potions book and a cup of eggnog on the mantle.

It was a good day!


	13. 13

_Author's note: I'm sorry this one is so short. I'm very busy and don't have time for more today. Tomorrow should be better._

13

The next morning found Snape sitting in the armchair by the fireplace in his living room, reading the potions book he had got from Santa. It was fascinating!

Not only did the book hold a total of three potions that, indeed, used foot perspiration of a dark wizard, it informed the potions master that Miles was a highly magical bird whose feathers, droppings and claws had properties every potioneer could only dream of. The pinkish plumes on the bird's belly could be used for a draught against anxiety, the tail feathers made a salve that would, if the text could be believed, take at least thirty years off your skin (if this was true, Snape was going to be a rich man, provided he was able to find more paradise owls) and the tiny feathers just above Miles' beak could be used in an elixir that would heal brain damage.

Snape hadn't slept at all. First, he had spent three hour extracting foot perspiration from the Dark Lord's socks, then he had read through the potions recipes for Miles' feathers – Severus could hardly wait for the bird to cast its feathers. He was glad that he didn't have to pluck the poor owl who had somehow grown on him. On the contrary, the book said that the feathers were most powerful during moult! How convenient!

As soon as the small clock on the mantle showed that the elves were serving breakfast, Snape got up and made his way to the Great Hall. He needed coffee, and a lot of it, or he wasn't going to survive his lessons after a night without sleep. Today there were going to be reading assignments and only reading assignments. Snape could admit to himself that he was in no state to supervise brewing.

"Severus, you look dreadful," observed McGonagall as she sat beside the younger wizard.

Snape snorted into his cup. "Why Minerva, what a joy to start the day with a compliment!"

"I'm serious," snapped the witch. "What have you done? You look like you haven't got any sleep at all last night!"

"I haven't," Snape confirmed. "I got caught up reading a new potions book. There some recipes in there I itch to try out."

"Do tell! What have you found?" the deputy headmistress asked curiously, and Snape filled her in on some of the potions in the book. He was glad for the conversation because it prevented him from falling asleep.

At 8 o'clock the bell chimed. Snape thought it was a pity that he had got his window so early. He missed the excitement of checking his socks for it was clear that he wasn't going to get a second window.

That day it was young Orwell Mayweather from Ravenclaw who got to pull presents from his sock.

The day's present consisted of coals and carrots, hats and scarves and whatever a young witch or wizard might desire to decorate a snowman.

"Splendid!" cried Dumbledore. "I haven't built a snowman in decades! Let's go outside, children, and get started. Morning classes are cancelled!"

Normally Snape would have protested but since he was too tired to teach properly, he didn't make a fuss. If the headmaster wanted to cancel lessons in favour of some fun in the snow, who was Snape to try and stop him!

That's why Severus Snape, potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, spent all morning building a snowman. It was a portly snowman, bigger than most of the students'. He wore a black wizard's hat and his nose was a carrot. The snowman had coal eyes and coal buttons and he held a cane and a bucket.

Shortly before lunch, Malfoy charmed his snowman – on the big side, Slytherin green cape – to attack Potter's (not so big, slender, and equipped with a makeshift wand). Potter saw the attack coming though and spelled his own snowman in time to fight back.

Many of the older years took leaves out of Malfoy and Potter's books and spelled their snowmen to fight, too. Soon a large number of younger students were in tears. The lower years didn't know enough magic to animate their snowmen and the work of hours was destroyed mercilessly by a sheer army of moving snowmen.

"Do something!" Snape cried at the headmaster but Dumbledore was busy fighting his own snowman battle against McGonagall. The two transfigurations experts gave each other a run for their money. The battle was truly spectacular.

Flitwick, it seemed, was the only other teacher but Snape who was not participating in the fights. "Help me!" cried the diminutive wizard as he fired spell after spell at the moving snowmen.

"What are we casting?" Snape asked.

"Melting charm," Flitwick squealed between spells.

Snape joined Flitwick and really, after about five minutes, the snowmen were starting to melt. After ten minutes, it was all over. The snowmen were now puddles of water on the lawn.

The students made their way to the Great Hall to wait for lunch and Snape went down to the dungeons to lie down a little before afternoon lessons started.


	14. 14

14

The next day, Harry Potter was the Chosen One. Well, Potter was always the Chosen One but that particular day, he was chosen.

From his sock – Snape smirked at the Gryffindor when Potter blushed as he had to reveal the sorry state of his socks to the public, there were holes in the sock and it was much too big for Potter's foot, Santa's golden number 14 looked out of place – the boy hero pulled a big sack of tiny shoes and a miniature phonograph.

"What's that supposed to be?" asked Potter's faithful sidekick, Ronald Weasley.

The brains of the Golden Trio chuckled. "It's obvious, Ronald," Granger admonished. "We got a dance!"

"How can that be a dance?" Weasley could be thick, Snape had to shake his head.

"I'll show you. Harry, hand me a pair of shoes! – Girl's shoes, you dolt!" Granger whacked Potter over the head with the pair of black gentlemen's patent leather shoes he had given her and which had immediately grown to the appropriate size when Granger touched them. "Any of you boys need shoes size," Granger checked, "5?"

A blond boy a little down the Gryffindor table cried that yes, he did! Granger gave him the shoes and held out her hand for girl's shoes which she was hurriedly handed. Only they stayed small.

"I'm afraid the magic works only once for everyone of us," Malfoy remarked. He had come over from the Slytherin table and held out his hand for his shoes. Potter tried to hand him stilettos, but Malfoy didn't fall for it. He pulled back his hand and glared at Potter.

"If Hermione has to wear boys' shoes," Potter growled, "you get these!" He held out the stilettos insistently.

"Merlin, do you have any brains in there?" sighed Malfoy. "You," he pointed at the blond boy who had taken the men's shoes from Granger, "come here!" The smaller blond obeyed. "Now, Potter, give him the shoes you want Granger to wear!"

"But she can't go in his shoes!" cried Potter. "They won't fit!"

"Idiot," hissed Malfoy. "If her shoes fit him, his will fit her!"

"Who are you calling an idiot!" cried Potter and Weasley was up beside him in an instant.

"Nobody who doesn't deserve it!" sneered Malfoy.

Meanwhile Granger had handed the tiny girls' shoes she was holding to the younger Gryffindor was now the proud owner of a pair of elegant silver dancing shoes. "Boys," she admonished, "don't spoil Santa's gift by quarrelling! Harry, give Draco proper shoes! You can give me some and I'll help you hand them out since the magic doesn't work for me anymore."

It took the students all of 10 minutes to give everybody present a pair of dancing shoes. Snape's were elegant and a little old-fashioned but they went excellently with his preferred style of robes.

When the last pair of shoes had been handed to their owner, the tiny phonograph grew to normal size and started to play.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and the house tables and benches vanished, sending some students to the floor rather abruptly.

"Minerva," cried the headmaster, "do me the honour!"

The deputy headmistress complied and the old witch and wizard went waltzing between their stunned students.

"Pansy!" cried Malfoy. The Malfoy heir had, of course, learned how to dance from a young age. The Malfoys frequently hosted balls and no member of the family would ever be caught lacking abilities on the dance floor. The blond youth performed a formal bow to ask Parkinson for the dance and she, being a pureblood witch, granted the dance with a little curtsy.

Other couples followed their lead. Snape hurried to ask Septima for the dance before anybody else snatched her away. The witch giggled delightedly and off they were. Snape may not be a pureblood wizard but he had made a point of getting the same education he had been entitled to if his mother had not been disinherited by the Prince family for marrying a muggle. Septima, no pureblood either, turned out to be a fan of traditional education, too. She performed all the little hops that distinguished wizards' ballroom dancing from muggles' perfectly.

By the time the first piece of music ended, more of half of Hogwarts' population was dancing. Those who weren't, looked unhappy. They wanted to dance but didn't know how.

"Why don't we make this a dancing lesson?" suggested Dumbledore. "Mr Jenkins, choose a partner!" The Hufflepuff boy who was standing closest to Dumbledore obeyed. "Now what you do…"

Everybody who knew how to dance took a couple who didn't under their wing. Snape ended up teaching Thomas of Gryffindor and his partner, a much younger Ravenclaw. The boy had waited too long to choose a partner and by the time he did, all the girls his age had been asked already.

The Ravenclaw was a talented dancer though and teaching them was easy because the girls had no qualms to pull and push Thomas where he was supposed to go.

From the corner of his eye, Snape watched Malfoy trying to teach Potter and a redheaded Hufflepuff. More than once the girl had to calm Potter down and hadn't it been for her, Snape was sure there would have been jinxes flying about.

If Potter was dancing with that Hufflepuff, where was Weasley's sister? Snape had thought that she and Potter were an item! The potions master craned his neck and Septima once more proved to be an intelligent witch. "Longbottom," she informed him. It seemed the walking disaster had snatched Potter's girlfriend from under the Chosen One's nose, and the girl didn't look unhappy at all. No wonder, Potter seemed to have been born with two left feet, while Longbottom moved gracefully on the dance floor.

The dance lasted until lunchtime. Once again, Dumbledore had cancelled all morning lessons. Snape was not going to complain. Waltzing and tangoing with Septima was certainly better than teaching a sixth year potions class. He only feared that they were all going to pay dearly for the missed lessons after Christmas.

Around noon, everybody had had enough of dancing and after lunch, the students returned to the classrooms without complaint. Snape had a Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw practical class that afternoon. It was delightful since both houses were diligent brewers and there were rarely any problems with them.

In the evening, Septima came to Snape's quarters and they shared a glass of wine and spelled one of Snape's potions vials to play tango music.


	15. 15

15

After another dose of wakefulness potion, Snape managed to enter the Great Hall quite early the next morning, although Septima had stayed until after midnight. They had indulged in some more dancing as well as other activities such as sampling Snape's collection of fine liquors. The witch didn't look like it but she was able to stomach quite a lot of firewhisky without losing control.

The potions master was in a good mood when he sat beside Dumbledore. Miles had lost a couple of belly feathers and Snape was hoping for a plethora of potions ingredients from the bird in the next few days. He could hardly wait to try out some of the brews from Santa's book.

"Good morning, Severus," greeted the headmaster. He seemed rather tired that morning.

"Long night?" Snape asked as he reached for the coffee pot.

The old man smiled dreamily. "Minerva is a wonderful dancer!" he informed the younger wizard. "And she has a lot of stamina."

"I didn't need to know that," Snape let his superior know.

"Believe me, my boy," Dumbledore pointed out, "once you are my age, you want to know things like that in advance. I wouldn't have survived the night if it wasn't for the pepper-up potion you gave me for my birthday."

"I didn't give you any pepper-up potion for you birthday," Snape pointed out. "What did you drink?"

"It was most definitely pepper-up potion," Dumbledore raised a hand to calm the agitated potions master. "I must have mixed up who gave me what. It must have been in the parcel I got from Nicholas."

Snape nodded. "That may be." He had no doubt that the headmaster was good enough at potions to recognize a pepper-up potions and realize if it had been tampered with.

McGonagall and Septima arrived together. "Hello, boys," they chimed merrily and sat beside their dance partners.

"Severus," Septima said after she had eaten a first slice of buttered toast with honey in silence, "I had a wonderful evening yesterday! Would you be interested in repeating it? It's Friday and I'm not on duty tomorrow morning."

"Neither am I," Snape hinted a bow. "I would be honoured. Would you like to go out? It would be a shame to hide your dancing abilities from the public eye."

The witch giggled. "On our way down, Minerva and I were discussing that new dance club in Aberdeen! You must be a seer!"

Snape sneered. "Do not offend me, witch!"

The Arithmancy teacher squeezed the potions master's hand. "You are so predictable, dear! And you look adorable when you are upset!"

"Adorable?" purred Snape.

"Severus," nagged the headmaster from his other side, "remember that there are children present!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Why don't you and Minerva join us tonight? It would be fun," he smirked at the older wizard.

"I was hoping you were going to suggest that!" cried McGonagall. "Oh, please, Albus, say yes!"

"Hm, two heads of houses and the headmaster absent at the same time, that's risky," muttered Dumbledore. "And the deputy headmistress wouldn't be here, either."

"I'm sure Filius can handle it," huffed McGonagall.

"So be it," beamed Dumbledore. "I have an orange muggle shirt I've wanted to wear forever!"

The four teachers were still deep in discussion of what to wear and when to meet in the evening, when the advent calendar bell chimed.

It was the deputy headmistress who found a golden number 15 on her sock.

"Oh, I really hope for an educational gift!" she cried merrily as she undid the laces on her boot.

There were murmurs among the students which suggested that not all youths shared the desire for an educational gift.

McGonagall got her wish though. She pulled a small roll of parchment for every person present from her sock and when Snape checked his, he found a spell, complete with a description of the required wand movement, to check a text for plagiarism. It was going to be extremely useful when it came to correcting homework.

McGonagall got a spell to check what was going on in the Gryffindor Common Room without having to leave her office.

"That's a very useful spell," said Snape. "I wish I could check on my Slytherins without having to go there. Especially in the winter, the dungeon corridors are cold."

"Why don't you learn mine and let me learn yours? I could do with a plagiarism checking spell!" McGonagall suggested, and it was done.

The teachers were not the only ones who exchanged spells.

Potter could be seen trying to master Granger's spell which organised the books in your satchel while extending said satchel to accommodate everything you had stuffed into it. Malfoy held court at the Slytherin table and taught everybody the manicure spell he had got who was willing to trade their own spells.

"It seems your house will be the best groomed at Hogwarts," chuckled Dumbledore.

Snape thought neat finger nails would be something that pleased Septima. Doing his duty as head of house, he went over to the Slytherin table to oversee the spell exchange. By the time every student had learned what they desired without anybody losing an eye, Snape had learned a good dozen of spells without having to reveal his.

"That was very sly of you, Sir," said Draco Malfoy, as he walked to the doors when everybody left for lessons. His voice was full of admiration.

Snape hinted a bow. "Twenty points to Slytherin for excellent observation skills!"

And that way, the Slytherin students did get something in return for their spells.

The potions master didn't get to take Septima out to Aberdeen that evening. All teachers spent a busy night, helping those who had attempted spells that were above their abilities.

"Mr Ivanov," Snape scolded a Slytherin first year as he escorted him to the hospital wing, "that spell is well above NEWT level. Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to try it out?"

The boy shrugged. "Zabini said I could have it for free if I tried it there and then. It was clear that I wasn't going to be able to do it, but I now know the incantation and the wand movement. I can try again in a couple of years."

Snape awarded the boy two points for planning for the future.

The highlight of the evening was that Septima was at the hospital wing. She had brought the Weasley girl there who had severe burns on her left hand and stubbornly refused how she had got those when she had attempted a spell freeze an opponent in a duel.

There was only enough time to steal a peck on the cheek in a quiet corner and to reassure each other that they were going to Aberdeen the next free evening they had together.


	16. 16

16

It was a good thing that Dumbledore wanted to wear that orange shirt desperately. When Snape checked his schedule before going up for breakfast the next day, his hall duties in the evening had disappeared miraculously.

"I'm free tonight," he told Septima without preamble as soon as he sat down at the Head Table.

"Wonderful!" cried the witch. "So am I!"

"I bet so are Albus and Minerva," chuckled the potions master. "Since it is Saturday, would you like to go a bit earlies and see a Christmas market or something?"

"What a splendid idea! You are a romantic, Severus!" Septima poured Snape a cup of coffee and batted her lashes at him. He didn't reply but busied himself with buttering toast, but the potions master was very pleased that he had managed to say just the right thing.

That day's calendar window went to Hufflepuff house. Kevin Whitby was the lucky student whose sock had been decorated with a golden number 16.

"Wonderful!" cried the boy. "This sock will be a wonderful Christmas present for my little sister!"

"Are you crazy? That sock comes from Santa himself! There will be only 24 and you want to give it to your little sister?" cried Finnigan from the Gryffindor table.

"I was looking for a special present and if a sock from Santa himself is not special, then I don't know what is!" Whitby defended himself.

Snape hadn't tought about it that way. The sock he was keeping on the mantle might be quite valuable. But of course he was not going to sell a sock from Santa. This was going to be a family heirloom if he ever got a family to hand it down to.

"Oh look!" the Hufflepuff cried, interrupting Snape's thoughts. "Santa knew what I was going to do!" He had pulled a sock out of his sock. "Now I have one for myself and one for Samantha!" The moment he mentioned a name, sparks surrounded the hand holding the new sock and when they dissolved, the name Samantha had been added to the sock in golden letters.

There was one sock for every student and teacher. Everybody was very quiet as to not mention a name they didn't want on their sock. Only here and there names were called when somebody had made a decision.

"Draco!" Malfoy could be heard as soon as his hand touched his sock.

Potter's sock was for Ginny. (He got one from her in return. It said "Oh-Harry!")

Severus dutifully gifted his sock to Septima and got his very own Severus-sock in return.

Many couples exchanged socks and observing the students revealed several new items to Snape for which he was going to watch out when he made his rounds the next time.

In the afternoon, true to his word, he took Septima to a Christmas market in Aberdeen. Albus and Minerva had joined them and the four teachers enjoyed a couple of hours mingling with muggles, buying little gifts and drinking Christmas punch.

It came as a complete surprise when they met none other as Lucius Malfoy, his wife and his sister-in-law, and a wizard Snape didn't know but whose appearance screamed "Glamour spell!".

"Tom," Dumbledore greeted the strange wizard. "Enjoying a muggle experience?"

"You have to know your enemy," the other wizard replied and lifted his cup of punch. "And yes, I'm enjoying it."

Since nobody present would want the others out of their line of sight, the witches and wizards proceeded as a group of eight. Snape bought Narcissa and Bellatrix roasted almonds when he got some for Septima, just to spite Lucius.

Narcissa was delighted with the treat and the blond wizard was ordered to get the recipe from the muggle. The Dark Lord forbade the use of the Imperius curse with Dumbledore present, so a considerable amount of gold changed hands to grant Narcissa her wish.

When night fell, the group walked to the dance club together – it turned out that the Dark Lord and his party had come to Aberdeen just for this – and enjoyed a merry night out.

Snape had to dance with all four witches as etiquette dictated, but he spent most of the evening with Septima in his arms.

"Who is this Tom? He's a creepy fellow," asked Septima as they were enjoying a tango together.

"I hope you didn't say anything," Snape whispered back and led them into a complicated move around each other.

"What do you take me for!" chuckled Septima. "I know how to be polite!"

"And that's not even your best quality," purred Snape.

As soon as it was considered polite, he and his witch left the club to discuss her qualities in a more private setting.


	17. 17

17

On Sunday Snape was up and about well before it was time to go to breakfast. He hadn't slept well. Scenarios of what could have happened the evening before if the Dark Lord had felt offended, or even in a mood for another kind of entertainment, kept popping up in his mind when he closed his eyes and his occlumency started to slip when he was on the edge of sleep.

Around four in the morning he gave up and got up. A dose of wakefulness potion took care of his fatigue and Snape went to his private lab to indulge in a session of good honest brewing.

On his way through the living room, the potions master picked up a couple of feathers Miles had shed during the day (the house elves were under strict orders not to touch anything that came from the magical owl) and the book he had got from Santa.

Snape had to take into account that he didn't want to miss the advent calendar bell, therefore any brew that took too much time was out of question. Fortunately that still left three to choose from. Snape read all three recipes and pondered which one to make.

A draught against back aches? That sounded very promising but it also required a rather big amount of finely diced scorzonera. He hated working with that plant. The smell was an offence to any nose and the juice was difficult to get off your hands. No, definitely not.

Merriment fumes? The recipe was easy enough and required no sticky ingredient but in Snape's opinion, the population of Hogwarts was merry enough. He shuddered at the thought that Dumbledore might take a sniff.

A curiosity potion! Now that sounded good. And the students could certainly do with an enhanced desire to learn more. The ingredients and preparations needed were simple enough and Snape was fairly sure he could finish this particular potion before the elves started serving breakfast.

After two delightful hours of brewing, Snape called for a house elf and asked it to add the potion to the breakfast pumpkin juice and tea. Then he went for a shower and finally made his way up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Sir!" he was greeted by Draco Malfoy as soon as he entered the hall. "Do you know who will get to open today's advent calendar window?"

"I do not," Snape replied but before he could elaborate how silly he considered the question, he was accosted by Potter.

"Sir, can you tell me about my parents?"

"No!" cried Weasley, "I want to know where he buys those robes first!"

"Is it true that you don't use shampoo?" somebody cried from the Hufflepuff table.

"Severus," greeted him Dumbledore when the potions master had finally managed to make his way to the head table, "do you know the meaning of this? They have been like this all morning!"

Snape blushed. "I brewed a curiosity potion," he admitted in a small voice. "And I think I got the dose wrong."

"Do you know for how long they are going to stay like that? They are pretty annoying," Dumbledore pointed out and informed one of the Weasley twins that, no, he was not going to tell him how many colourful robes he owned.

"Mr Longbottom!" McGonagall cried as she made her way up to the head table. "Has your grandmother taught you nothing? You never ask a lady her age!" She added "Five points from Gryffindor!" when Longbottom insisted she was not a lady but a witch.

"I'd really love to send you brew an antidote," growled Dumbledore when another student came to bombard him with questions.

"I'd miss the calendar!" cried Snape.

"And rightly so!" hissed McGonagall. "This is ridiculous!"

The students only quieted down when the bell chimed and everybody busied themselves looking for the number 17 on their socks.

"Got it!" cheered Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw. Her sock was white with frills. It looked very pretty.

"What is in it?" chorused the assembled students. Snape rolled his eyes.

The girl pulled off her sock and reached inside. "Oh, look!" she cried and presented a big role of paper. She also showed a brochure on how to make your own gift-wrap paper. There were several spells described that could be used to decorate the paper.

"Is there more?" asked Cho Chang who was sitting only a couple of seats away from the Clearwater girl.

There was. There was a role of paper for everybody and also a copy of the brochure.

Once again, Professor Flitwick made his way through the aisles between the house tables and helped students with their spell casting.

Snape made his paper a very tasteful dark blue with a complicated pattern of stars and comets. When he was done, he went to help Flitwick with the students.

After a morning of spell casting, the students went to enjoy their Sunday and Snape decided to take a leaf out of their books. He went for a walk and smiled when he realised that Septima had had the same idea. They walked around the lake and called a house elf to bring them a late lunch when they found a quiet spot near the lake.

It was a delightful Sunday. And the best thing was that the curiosity potion had worn off sometime during the spell casting. Not a single student asked Snape a question for the rest of the day.


	18. 18

18

It was Monday and that was certainly not Severus Snape's favourite day of the week. He slept as long as it was possible without missing the advent calendar bell. That's why he was seen two minutes before eight, rushing down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, robes billowing dramatically.

"Ah, Severus, just in time!" cried Dumbledore merrily. "Come, have a cup of coffee!" The old wizard poured said cup of coffee and Snape grabbed it thankfully.

"Thank you, Albus," he said politely after the first sip. "Is there something wrong?" A giggle escaped the potions master. He covered his mouth with the tips of his fingers and narrowed his eyes at the headmaster who was now beaming at him. "What have you done?" Giggle.

"I discovered a recipe for a splendid Giggling Solution," the old wizard enthused. "It uses the feathers of my raven. I was thinking the bird must be good for something apart from annoying Fawkes and your Curiosity Draught gave me the idea to look in a potions book."

"A potions book always makes a good read," – giggle – admitted Snape. "But why slip it to me?"

"Well," Albus pointed out, "you are the only person who wouldn't giggle of their own accord. That makes you the perfect guinea pig for this brew."

"For how long will the effect – giggle – last?"

"The recipe says up to a week," Dumbledore raised a hand to stop one of Snape's famous tantrums, "but you drank only a tiny dose."

"A – giggle – week? Are you completely crazy? What if I am summoned? He has killed people for lesser offences than laughing at him!"

"Then I suggest you tell him about the potion as soon as you arrive," Dumbledore dismissed Snape's worries. "He does enjoy a good story, doesn't he?"

The discussion was interrupted by the calendar bell and the two wizards dutifully checked their socks. Of course neither of them got to open a second window. Nevertheless Snape was please as the window went to Slytherin house. It was Pansy Parkinson who had a golden number 18 on her left sock.

"Congratulations, Pansy," Draco Malfoy said solemnly and hurried to hold the witch's shoe for her while she pulled off her sock.

"Thank you, Draco," the girl replied sweetly, showing off diligently painted red toe nails. "I hope there is something we can share in there!"

Snape rolled his eyes but watched with pleasure as Draco courteously transfigured a slip of parchment into a copy of Pansy's sock for her to put on.

"He's so polite, don't you think?" Septima asked from Snape's other side.

"A wizard of true breeding," – giggle – Snape had to admit.

"What is that?" cried Parkinson who had, after making a show of putting on the transfigured sock and her shoe, finally reached into her sock. She held up a colourful piece of plastic the size of a saucer. She had to put it down when the thing grew big enough to sit on.

"I'd say a bum slider sledge," cried a boy from Hufflepuff. "Those are fun!"

There was, of course, one for everybody. Pansy turned up her nose on the idea of getting a muggle gift but graciously handed out sledges to the excited students.

Snape accepted a violently pink one with a giggle (he was going to kill Albus one of these days). His only consolation was that Septima got a matching one.

Dumbledore cancelled the morning lessons once again and the whole population of the castle went outside to slide down the hill in the snow.

It took but a half hour for Potter and Malfoy to engage in a race but it was in good fun and soon everybody was racing. The headmaster decided to force a little structure on the mayhem and announced Hogwarts' first ever sledge race tournament.

McGonagall – used to organising things as the deputy headmistress – drew up a list of who was to race against whom and when.

By lunchtime, Hogwarts had its first sledge racing champion. It was Ginny Weasley. The girl was a veritable daredevil when it came to racing.

Snape won the senior competition. Giggle! Dumbledore came in second but could not very well complain about the sly potions master blocking his wandless acceleration spell.

McGonagall organised a small ceremony for the winners before lunch and they were given the privilege to choose what was served for the meal as a reward. Snape went for chocolate cake – McGonagall was scandalized since in her opinion a teacher should have chosen healthy food – and the Weasley girl ordered shepherd's pie for everybody.

After a hearty meal, everybody went to the afternoon lessons without complaint. Snape spent an hour berating and giggling at a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Luckily the potion wore off before the Slytherin and Gryffindor class began.

After dinner, the potions master invited Septima to his quarters to admire the trophy he had got for his victory in the sledge race.


	19. 19

19

"I do not care what is in today's sock, Albus," Snape could hear McGonagall nag at their superior when he came to breakfast the next morning. "You can't cancel lessons every day! The children need their education. We can play with whatever we get after dinner!"

"But I'm the headmaster," Dumbledore pointed out. "If I can't cancel lessons, who can?"

"Don't play dumb with me," huffed the enraged witch. She greeted Snape with a smile but it lasted for only a second before she was all serious and business once again. "Promise me that we will have regular lessons today."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore reached for the honey jar. "It's almost Christmas and if Santa's gift requires a free morning, we'll have one."

"Oh no," McGonagall grabbed the honey jar and pulled it to her. "This is insane! This is a school!"

"That's what I've been saying for years." Snape interfered. "This is an insane school!"

"You are not helping, Severus!" spat the witch.

"I agree with Minerva, Albus," Snape felt he had to say. "We can't skip lessons so often. The finals won't get any easier only because we decided to play in the snow."

"There!" growled McGonagall. "Even the boy knows."

"Severus knows a lot of things," said Septima as she sat on Snape's other side. "But I would hardly call him a boy."

"That's because you are not old enough to be his grandmother," McGonagall pointed out good-naturedly.

"Thank Merlin, she's not," muttered Snape. Septima beamed at him. "Did you arrive safely at your chambers?" he asked politely.

"Of course, that shortcut you told me about saved me a lot of time and stairs." The Arithmancy teacher replied happily.

They chatted about this and that until the advent calendar bell chimed.

That morning it was Sybil Trelawney who found her sock magically turned into an advent calendar window.

Septima and Minerva had to help her put it off. The witch was wearing so many layers of skirts that she couldn't reach her feet over the bulk of them.

When the sock was finally retrieved and Trelawney was properly dressed again (Minerva made her a new sock out of a tea cup), the Divination teacher reached into the foot garment and pulled out a handful of small parcels. They grew as soon as they were freed from their confinement.

"There is a label on this one!" cried the witch. "It says Fred Weasley!"

The Weasley twin in question hurried up to the head table to get his present. Meanwhile Trelawney read out more names. Soon it was clear that there was a parcel for everybody.

Snape got a beautiful notebook. It was all black but for the golden words "My Potions".

"That's very elegant, Severus," said Septima. She had got a notebook, too, only that hers was not black but covered in mathematical symbols.

Dumbledore had a violently yellow notebook and only on second sight Snape realised that the colour was caused by pictures of lemon drops.

It seemed everybody had got a notebook, decorated to fit their personality and hobbies. Many of the students had quidditch related pictures on their new notebook. Granger's had books, the Weasley twins had got matching displays of fireworks.

There were notebooks covered in gobstones, exploding snap cards, plants, animals and a little girl at the Gryffindor table had got pictures of Christmas trees.

"See," McGonagall told Dumbledore, "even Santa wants them to study!"

The headmaster had to admit that his deputy was right and sent the students off to their lessons as soon as everybody had unwrapped their present.

It was a blissful day as far as teaching went. The children wanted to make use of their new notebooks but of course you had to write beautifully in a gift from Santa himself. Therefore, classes were quiet and the students worked more diligently than usually. Snape almost enjoyed the experience.

During lunch break, Draco Malfoy and a couple of Slytherins came to Snape and asked for help.

"We don't want to use the beautiful gifts we got for common lessons. We thought of making a list of the potion ingredients we already covered. That way we could use the book for years to come."

"And what would you need from me to do that?" Snape asked, curious.

"Well," said Malfoy, "to make the book more useful for the future it would be wise to put the ingredients in alphabetical order. We were wondering whether there is a spell to put them in the correct order when we have to add ingredients as we learn more."

Snape smiled at his students proudly. They had really thought about this! Of course there was a spell like that and it was Snape's pleasure to teach it to his Slytherins. Malfoy was quick on the uptake when it came to spell-casting. He mastered the spell after only a couple of minutes.

"Why don't we go up to the Great Hall and grab a bite," Snape suggested. "Mr Malfoy now knows how to do it and he can help the rest of you. Most of you are very close to getting it right. All you will need is a little practice. I'll come to the Common Room after dinner in case you have trouble."

The students were content with that promise and the group went up to the Great Hall.

In the evening Snape went to Slytherin house, as he had promised, but every student that had been in his office had already performed the spell successfully. Malfoy showed what he had already written and Snape suggested a book from the library for more detail on porcupine quills.

Since his help was not really needed, the potions master decided to try out that shortcut to Septima's chambers. The witch was delighted. She was working on a particularly difficult arithmancy problem and Snape's input was more than welcome.


	20. 20

20

Santa's gift had reminded Severus that he hadn't yet shopped for Christmas presents. Not that he needed many, only a little something for a colleagues or other, something nice for Septima and maybe a bottle of something strong for Lucius.

Snape had stayed up late to plan when and where to shop – he had missed the opportunity to use the last weekend and he really didn't want to throw himself into the mayhem that the 23rd was going to be in the shops.

That's why Hogwarts' potions master was up and about very early on the 20th. He had a house elf bring him the mail order catalogues which were available to teachers and students and started to look for those little somethings he needed for Albus, Minerva and a select few others. Septima's present was more important, he was going to go to Hogsmeade before dinner. He just hoped that nothing unexpected occurred that made his presence at the castle necessary.

Once Miles was on the way with his orders – Lucius was going to get a nice bottle of firewhisky – Snape went up to the Great Hall. He was the first to arrive.

"Good morning, Master Potions Master," an elf appeared by his side, "can Pinky bring you something special for breakfast?"

"Since when do you take personal orders?" Snape asked, slightly irritated.

"We always do for those who come very early," the elf bowed. "At this time we are still working on breakfast and if we ask, we can prepare what the early risers want first."

Snape nodded, it made sense. "Then I'll have my usual cup of coffee and – hm – something nice with eggs. Surprise me," he mused. "And do you have some of that bread with sunflower seeds in it that you serve from time to time?"

"Pinky will make it personally!" the elf promised.

It took the house elves only seconds to provide Snape with the requested cup of tea. Two minutes later, an omelette and a basket full of fresh bread appeared in front of the wizard.

Snape took a minute to enjoy the smell – the smell of well prepared food was heaven when you had to smell potion fumes all day – before he tried his eggs. They were delicious.

He was halfway through the dish when Septima made an appearance and since there still was not a single student, she pecked Snape on the lips. What a day!

"What are you having?" the witch asked and bent closer to examine what was left on Snape's plate. "That looks good! Can I have the same?" she asked the room at large and a minute later the requested dish appeared.

"Did you know that they take personal orders?" Snape asked.

"Of course," laughed Septima. "I often come here extra early just to order some fancy breakfast dish! Oh, since there are no students here – can we have two glasses of champagne?"

They could.

"Alcohol in the morning?" the headmaster greeted the two teachers when he arrived a little later. Students had begun to arrive in small groups mere moments before.

"We made sure to not drink it on an empty stomach," Septima reassured the headmaster. "We are still in full possession of our senses."

The old man chuckled. "Ah, young romance," he said dreamily.

Snape wanted to point out that he was definitely not having a romance but he thought better. Was this a romance? He looked at Septima and the witch winked at him. Well, maybe he was having a romance. He smiled, but only a little. It wouldn't do to cause the students to faint.

Since he had eaten early, Snape waited for the advent calendar bell sipping coffee and chatting with Septima, Albus and Minerva. When the bell chimed, he dutifully checked his socks, which had stayed numberless of course.

That day it was George Weasley who found a number on his sock, and nobody was more surprised than the twin himself. "Freddy," he cried, "tell me it's true and then help me get that sock off my foot!"

His twin complied and together they pulled the content of the sock out.

It was a Christmas tree. Once it had been freed, it sparkled in silver and gold and rose into the air. It moved behind the head table and once had touched the ground, it started to grow.

It was bigger than the twelve trees Hagrid had provided for decoration which was to say something and it was decorated in more beautiful ornaments than those that Flitwick and his students had put on Hagrids trees.

There was also a letter in the sock. It informed the population of Hogwarts that there was one ornament to keep for every Christmas party guest on the tree and that they were supposed to leave everything on the tree until the end of the party.

"What a wonderful gift!" cried Dumbledore and the students showed their agreement with a warm round of applause for Santa.

Snape was glad that the day's sock hadn't held anything that was going to cause mayhem in the evening when he wanted to go shopping. Excellent!


	21. 21

21

On the 21st of December, Snape found a small stack of parcels wrapped in brown paper on his coffee table when he got up. The presents he had mail-ordered must have arrived. As it was early enough to have a look, the potions master sat on his couch and unwrapped the first box. Ah yes, the firewhisky for Lucius.

"A-hoo-hoo!" Miles made himself heard from his perch.

"You are a good bird!" Snape acknowledged that the paradise owl had managed to deliver his orders properly. "Excellent work, especially for a first try!" He put the box back down on the table and went over to his owl. Miles uttered a very un-owlish trill of delight when his master tickled the feathers on his head in praise. "Good owl!" Snape gave the colourful bird a treat before he returned to his task of going through the deliveries.

Once he had seen and made sure the right things had been sent, the wizard magically rewrapped everything and turned the brown wrapping paper into gift wrap paper in a very elegant dark green. The only exception was Albus's present of course. Snape spelled that one orange with bright yellow stars on it.

Once the gifts had been taken care of, Snape went up to the Great Hall to grab a cup of coffee. Septima was already there and she smiled at him with delight when the potions master sat beside her.

"Salmon and champagne again?" Snape teased good-naturedly.

"If you make fun of me, you won't get any," the witch mock-pouted at him.

"Who says I want any?" Snape leaned closer to the witch and batted his lashes. When she smiled at him, he stole a little salmon from her plate.

"Hey! Get your own meal!" protested Septima and slapped his hand playfully.

"What a wonderful idea, my dear!" Snape called for an elf and ordered salmon and champagne, too. "Oh, and I'd like some grapes," he added as an afterthought.

Snape and Vector were feeding each other grapes when the headmaster arrived. "Am I interrupting something?" the old man asked.

"Not at all, Albus," Septima reassured him. "We were just sampling the fruit. We wouldn't want our students to get stomach aches."

"I really don't have time to brew a stomach soothing draught," Snape pointed out.

The headmaster hinted a bow to his teachers. "That's very circumspect of you, to make sure the food is in order. So, can I risk a glass of champagne or did you find anything to complain about?" He giggled when the pair blushed.

When the students started to arrive a little earlier, the empty champagne flutes had been banished to the kitchens and all teachers present were having coffee like it was to be expected for breakfast.

That morning, it was Colin Creevey who got the calendar sock. Snape gritted his teeth. Two Gryffindors in a row!

"Oh, look!" the boy cried excitedly when he reached inside his sock. "It must be bird seeds!"

"We already got food for the birds," Snape pointed out. "It would be the first time that we get the same thing twice."

Pomona Sprout rose from her seat and went down to the Gryffindor table to have a look at the seeds the young Gryffindor had pulled from his sock. "Those are not bird seeds!" she cried after a very short examination of the gift. "Those are Christmas rose seeds! Go ahead, Mr Creevey! Knowing Santa, you have planting pots in your sock."

And really! There were small pots in the boy's sock and tiny sacks of soil. Once everything had been handed out to the tables, the pots and sacks grew to their proper size.

The Herbology teacher instructed the students how to plant their Christmas roses while demonstrating with her own pot. Snape didn't need any instructions, of course. As a potions master he had more than the average knowledge of Herbology.

"Let me help you!" he told Septima and pressed her small rose seed into her pot. "There's no need for you to get your fingers dirty."

"You are so thoughtful," giggled the witch and pecked the wizard on the cheek in thanks. Luckily the students were busy and nobody noticed.

As it was to be expected with Santa, the Christmas roses didn't need weeks to bud but by the end of breakfast each witch and wizard present – and Filch, too – had a pot with blooming flowers in front of them. Most flowers were white but some sported a delicate pink. Snape's had a very light orange hue and Septima reassured him that his rose was the most beautiful in the Great Hall.

Snape offered to swap when she loved the colour so much but the witch said no. "It will suffice if you allow me to look at it for a while after dinner," she looked at the potions master expectantly.

"It will be my honour," Snape hurried to say. "Shall I prepare a bottle of wine?"

The witch nodded and in the evening, Snape complied.


	22. 22

22

The 22nd was Friday, and in Snape's opinion the weekend couldn't come soon enough. After a delightful evening with Septima, he would have liked to sleep in a little but, alas, it was not meant to be. Snape went through his morning ablutions on auto-pilot. On his way out of his quarters, he remembered to feed Miles. (A-hoo-hoo!)

"I was getting worried," he was greeted at the Head Table by Minerva McGonagall. "It's not like you to arrive so late when there is an advent calendar window to open! You have only five minutes left!"

"That should be enough time to have a cup of coffee," Snape could hardly supress a yawn. He reached for the pot tiredly but Septima beat him to it and poured him a cup. How did the witch manage to look that well-rested after they had stayed up so long the previous evening?

Snape was on his second cup when the advent calendar bell chimed.

The students checked their socks eagerly. There weren't many days left, so everybody who hadn't got a sock window yet, was hoping to be chosen that day.

Nobody had a number on their sock.

"Has anybody forgotten to check?" asked the headmaster when it seemed that nobody was still busy looking at their feet.

"Argus didn't check," Sprout pointed out.

"I'm not magical," the caretaker hissed through gritted teeth. "That calendar thing is only for witches and wizards."

"Nonsense," said Dumbledore. "The house elves aren't witches or wizards either, and you were included in the presents every day. There always was one for you, too."

"True!" admitted Filch and bowed under the table to check his socks. "Got it!" he cried seconds later, his voice heavy with disbelief.

"Well," the headmaster encouraged, "then show us what you've got!"

The old man removed his shoe and sock. Pomona transfigured a replacement sock for the squib before he reached into the calendar sock to get the day's gift out.

They got skates.

Once again, the headmaster cancelled all morning lessons and this time Snape eagerly agreed. Education didn't look so important when you had had only 3 hours of sleep.

"We'll meet by the lake in a half hour!" the old sorcerer cried as he sent the students off to fetch their winter cloaks, hats and gloves.

A half hour later, everybody was down by the lake putting on their skates. The headmaster himself cast a spell to strengthen and stabilize the ice. Surprisingly, the old man was among the first to enter the slippery surface and he turned out to be an expert skater.

The supreme mugwamp of the Wizengamot started with lazy figure eights but by the time the first dozen of students had entered the ice, he had already proceeded to toeloops and pirouettes.

"Did you know he was a figure skater?" Snape asked McGonagall.

"I had no idea!" the witch admitted. "Oh, I love how he is full of surprises!" She cried out with delight and slid over to where the headmaster was running around Harry Potter in circles and performing a different jump every time he passed in front of the wizarding hero. Dumbledore extended a hand and pulled the witch into a dance as if he had expected her to join him all along. A quick spell later tango music was playing.

"Oh, I love the tango!" Septima clapped beside Snape and looked at him expectantly.

The potions master bowed formally and extended a hand. The Arithmancy teacher accepted with a curtsy and they joined their superior and his partner in dance.

Soon they were joined by couples of students. Since gatherings for skating while waiting for Christmas were an old tradition among pureblood families, most of Snape's Slytherins were excellent figure skaters and of course they enjoyed the opportunity to demonstrate to the other houses that they were better educated than anybody else.

Draco Malfoy turned out to be an excellent tango dancer. He had inherited his father's inherent sense for drama and Pansy Parkinson was the ideal partner for him. The blond had conjured a red rose which he now held between his lips while sliding over the ice with the dark haired girl in his arms.

He pushed at Pansy when they skated past Potter and they both performed a double Axel flawlessly and in perfect harmony. Pansy slowed down just a little after the jump and the blond caught her and pulled her into a pair camel spin. At the end of the spin the two Slytherins performed a very simple but highly erotic manoeuvre to pass the rose from Draco to Pansy. Once the transfer was complete, they took back up speed and circled away lazily.

Potter was not one to be outdone easily and while the boy had shown no aptitude for dance at the yule ball some years ago, this was sport and it came to him without having to try hard. Soon he and the Weasley girl were in a dance-off with Malfoy and Parkinson.

Snape had to admit that Draco had more practice and pulled off the dark passion needed for the tango more convincingly but the youngest Weasley moved more gracefully than Pansy and her long red hair added to the dramatic effect.

"Shall we allow ourselves to be outdone by children?" asked Septima and the answer was – obviously – no. Snape grabbed the witch and pulled her close enough that they could have shared a cloak. They started with some easy pair spins but soon they performed their first jump. Snape didn't do children's stuff like synchronous jumps. No, he threw his partner into her jumps before performing his own. Also, they were the only pair to perform a death drop.

After almost two hours of dancing on the ice – Snape enjoyed the experience immensely and more than one student came to voice their admiration for the potions master's skills – Albus had the idea to organise a hockey tournament. Each house was allowed four teams of six students respectively. The total age of the team was not allowed to be more than 80 years. Since the headmaster was eager to play himself, he added a rule that each team could have a teacher but then the five students playing couldn't add up to more than 60 years of age.

Snape was asked to play with Malfoy and he agreed easily. McGonagall had conjured a beautiful cup for the winning team and Snape hoped that Septima would want to see it when he won. Unfortunately the witch was asked to play by a team of Hufflepuffs and she agreed, too.

The tournament was time consuming and the headmaster called a lunch break after the first round of matches.

Septima's team had beat their Slytherin opponents spectacularly and she teased the head of Slytherin mercilessly over lunch. "Wait until we meet on the ice," Snape growled good-naturedly. The witch laughed one of those tinkling laughs Snape liked so much.

They met in the final match.

"So it comes down to the question whether we look at that cup and my quarters or yours," Snape growled as they waited for Albus to signal the start of the game.

"My rooms," laughed Septima.

The witch was a force to be reckoned with when it came to playing hockey. By the end of the game Malfoy was close to tears. The woman had outplayed him with ridiculous ease repeatedly and the younger students on the team were letting him know their displeasure.

In the evening Snape used that shortcut to get to the witch's quarters. She had tea ready to help him warm up and the cup looked really beautiful on her mantle.


	23. 23

23

The next morning Snape opted for another dose of wakefulness potion. There were only two advent calendar windows left and he didn't want to miss anything.

Once again, he and Septima were the first in the Great Hall and a house elf turned up to ask what they wanted for breakfast.

Septima ordered fresh fruit and tea – "There will be a Christmas party with plenty of food tomorrow and I want room in my stomach for all that food" – and Snape ordered toast and a variety of jams.

They were just comparing fresh blackberries to spoonfuls of blackberry preserve when the headmaster arrived.

After a short greeting and a big yawn, the old wizard asked Snape whether he could have some of his raspberry jam, which Snape answered in the affirmative. "I'm getting too old for shenanigans like yesterday's," Dumbledore admitted.

"Albus," Septima leaned a little forward to see past Severus, "somebody who cut a rug like you did yesterday, is definitely not too old for a little ice dancing. All you need is a little more sleep. Or a potion to wake you. Have you considered talking to your potions master about it?"

Snape chuckled and held out a vial to the headmaster.

"Wakefulness potion?" Dumbledore asked. "Why are you carrying that on you?"

"It was for Septima, but that woman has too much energy for her own good. I didn't even offer it when I saw her all cheerful when I arrived."

"Thank Merlin that Septima is so full of energy," sighed the headmaster and accepted the vial. Two minutes later he was his cheerful, alert self again. "Ah, the beauty of potion brewing!" The wizard smacked his lips and then reached for the coffee pot.

When McGonagall arrived, the two dancing couples discussed some of the moves they had performed yesterday. Dumbledore liked Severus and Septima's pair spins while McGonagall wanted to know about the jumps where Severus had thrown his partner.

The two couples agreed to meet by the lake later to try some of the described manoeuvres in situ.

Severus inquired about a synchronised jump the older couple had performed. He had seen it twice the day before but had always missed the point where one of them had started to counter the rotation of the other.

"I'm sure you started out spinning in the same direction but you ended up not to," he told Dumbledore. "That's one wicked move!"

The older wizard was obviously pleased with the praise and promised to teach the youngsters how it was done when they met by the lake.

While the four teachers discussed the finer points of figure skating, the students arrived and by eight o'clock, the hall was full to the last seat once again.

This day it was Pomona Sprout, the kind head of Hufflepuff, who got the calendar sock. Flitwick helped his fellow head of house with her footwear and then the witch started to pull the day's present out of the sock.

Every student got a small piece of fabric in the colour of their choosing and when the last piece had been handed out, the hall was filled with magical sparks and the cloths and foulards started to grow into beautiful dress robes. Snape was immensely relieved that he had chosen black.

Some students were more excited than others. The Weasley children were thrilled to receive new clothes while Malfoy and his pureblood gang who owned more clothes than they could wear before growing out of them made disappointed faces. Another set of robes meant not much to them.

When everybody's new robes were done another set of sparks appeared on the head table, in front of Snape. Another message from Santa appeared in form of a roll of parchment in front of the potions master.

Snape got up and unrolled the letter.

"It says," he informed the assembled witches and wizards, "that tomorrow's window will not open in the morning but at 8pm, during the party. The party starts at 7 in the evening." He did not read out the post scriptum which informed him that he was going to find a little gift for Septima on his nightstand.

"Would you do me the honour to come down to the dungeons with me," he asked the witch politely. "I have something I'd like to give you."

Septima nodded and arranged her new – blood red – robes over her arm. "I'd be honoured."

What Snape found on his nightstand, was a big cardboard box. "Santa's letter said there was a little something for you," he informed the witch and she squealed with delight. "Let's see what we got here."

There were two pairs of dancing shoes, one black and one gold. "Gryffindor colours?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

Septima chuckled. "Who but a bold Gryffindor would dare to mingle with the grim head of Slytherin?"

"I was not aware you were in Gryffindor when you were a student," he pointed out as he handed the witch her new shoes.

"I was," Septima informed him. "Are you going to stop talking to me?"

Snape laughed. "And miss the chance to corrupt you and pull you to the house of the snakes? Certainly not! – Oh, there's something else!"

It was a small box wrapped in Gryffindor colours. The witch took it and unwrapped the gift excitedly.

In the box was a gold chain with a pendant that had a big ruby as its centrepiece. Around the ruby, diamonds and smaller rubies were arranged tastefully.

"Oh that will go so well with my dress!" cried the witch.

"You will be even more beautiful than usual," Snape pointed out. It was the right thing to say because a moment later he had his arms full of witch.

They were a little late for their meeting with Albus and Minerva.


	24. 24

24

Since the last advent calendar window was not going to be opened in the morning, Snape blissfully slept in on the 24th. By the time he woke, breakfast in the Great Hall was long over but the potions master didn't mind.

After a luxuriously long shower he fed Miles and then walked up to the Entrance Hall, dressed in his warmest winter cloak.

Septima arrived minutes after him, equally warm dressed.

"Ready?" the wizard asked and the witch nodded that, yes, she was ready indeed.

They walked down the hill, past students playing in the snow, to the gates of the ground. Hogsmeade was magnificent on Christmas Eve. The houses and streets were covered in a thick layer of snow. Somebody had spelled the pavement so that the snow in front of the witch and wizard disappeared and reappeared when they had passed.

They went to the Three Broomsticks first. Madam Rosmerta was busy wiping the tables when the couple entered the pub.

"Severus! Septima!" she cried merrily to greet her guests. "What can I do for you on this wonderful day?"

"We'd like breakfast if you serve it," the potions master placed their order, "and to later use your floo."

"Of course I serve breakfast! Do sit down," the matron pushed out chairs at the table she had just wiped. "You'd be surprised how many prefer to not prepare it themselves on Christmas Eve."

A little later, Madam Rosmerta brought a pot of coffee and a huge stack of pancakes.

"Why don't you have a bite yourself?" asked Septima and the other witch didn't need to be told twice. She summoned another cup and plate and together they tucked in.

"So, what's new here in Hogsmeade?" Septima started the conversation.

Rosmerta had only waited for a starting point, it seemed. She shared all the gossip about the magical village. Snape enjoyed his pancakes and only grunted in agreement here and there, when he thought it was expected. Septima threw in questions from time to time and it was just the right thing to keep the landlady going.

She told them everything about the mayor's newest affair – it was a shame how the man went through a row of girlfriends less than a year after losing his beloved wife – and discussed Scrivenshaft's new shop assistant. Said shop assistant was seemingly wonderful for old Mr Scrivenshaft as she not only knew how to sell stationary but also knew her maths and took over most of the work concerning ordering new goods and even part of the accounting. Of course the old Scrivenshaft was not trusting enough to let the girl do all the accounting. Rosmerta elaborated on what she thought of the old miser.

There had been a wedding in the village only last week. Bertram Brown whose mother worked at the post office had met a young witch from Italy at work in London and she had agreed to come and live in Hogsmeade with him.

"Mr Brown was very gifted in arithmancy," Septima praised the young wizard. "He was hired by the ministry right out of school three years ago, wasn't he? Do you remember him, Severus?"

"Who wouldn't," snorted the potions master. "Mr Brown holds the record for the worst chain reaction potions mishap in my NEWT course."

Septima giggled. "Oh yes, I remember! Your hair was pink for three days!"

"It was only a hue of pink."

Rosmerta giggled. "Why didn't you come here back then, Severus? I'd have loved to see you with pink highlights!"

After a delightful meal – the pancakes were delicious – and a lot more gossip, Snape and Vector flooed to London for some last minute Christmas shopping.

Diagon Alley was quite full as was to be expected but that didn't deter the two Hogwarts teachers. They went to Honeydukes – the bigger shop in London carried a much greater variety of goods than the small one in Hogsmeade – and the book shop. The most important shops, though, was Zonko's.

Snape bought a couple of tricks to give to Albus – the old man enjoyed funny gifts – and some fireworks for the evening.

They had a late lunch at a lovely little restaurant near Ollivander's and returned to Hogwarts just in time to get ready for the Christmas party. Snape offered to pick Septima up at her quarters and the witch accepted the offer with a big smile.

That's why Severus Snape was on an upper floor of the castle when the Dark Lord and his followers arrived for the party.

"Severus!" the Dark Lord greeted the black-clad wizard when he entered the Great Hall with Septima on his arm. The witch wore her hair up in a bun and her new dress robes hugged her figure in all the right places.

"My Lord!" Snape hinted a bow. "Please forgive me that I was not here to greet you upon your arrival."

"I can see you were busy escorting this delightful lady to the party!" the Dark Lord pecked Septima's fingers. "What a better excuse than having to serve a beautiful lady!" He extended a hand and Bellatrix Lestrange appeared at his side. The crazy witch wore an elegant gown for the occasion and had her hair done in an elaborate braid. She looked every part the rich pureblood witch she was supposed to for a change.

Snape greeted the woman politely and added a compliment about her appearance as was expected. Bellatrix showed her upper class upbringing for once by thanking him with a light blush.

At seven o'clock sharp, Dumbledore asked the assembled witches and wizards to sit at the many round tables that replaced the house tables for the occasion.

Severus Snape and his date sat with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord and Harry Potter plus their dates. The potions master wondered who had been in charge of the seating arrangements. There was hardly a more explosive combination of wizards possible.

"Santa himself arranged the seating," Dumbledore answered Snape's unasked questions. "When I conjured the tables, name tags appeared out of thin air and the arrangements weren't to be changed. Whenever somebody tried to move a tag, a new one appeared in its place."

"Well, we can behave for one evening, can't we?" the Dark Lord considered the menu.

"We can on Christmas Eve," Harry Potter agreed.

"I think I'll have a steak. Very rare," the Dark Lord informed his plate and the steak appeared within the minute. "What will you have, Harry? Chicken?"

The teenage hero smiled sweetly and ordered shepherd's pie. Snape had to admit that the boy was doing a great job not letting himself be provoked.

The meal passed in relative silence. Minerva and Septima were the only ones at their table who made conversation. The head of Gryffindor tried to include the Weasley girl who was Potter's date for the evening twice but the girl's answers were only very short. Snape couldn't blame her. At her age he wouldn't have felt like having a light conversation while sitting through dinner with the darkest wizard of the time either.

Dessert was just winding down when the advent calendar bell chimed. Everybody checked their socks. Snape had been sure that the Dark Lord was going to get the window but he didn't.

It was Bellatrix who cried: "I got the sock for you, my Lord!" excitedly.

"Congratulations, Bella," the dark wizard said through gritted teeth.

"Would you like some assistance pulling it off, Madam?" Dumbledore asked politely and turned to the witch.

"That would be very welcome!" was his reply. "This gown is too tight to bend all the way down."

"Well," said Dumbledore as he made ready to remove Bellatrix's shoe, "I have learned that a witch's most beautiful outfit is not always her most comfortable, and you look positively stunning tonight, Lady Bellatrix!"

"Excuse me," growled the Dark Lord, "but Bellatrix is my date today." Snape wondered where Bella's husband was. Probably on some assignment for the Dark Lord. He bent down and lifted the witch's foot onto his knee where he proceeded to unlace her high-heeled boot.

Once he had retrieved her sock, the dark wizard helped the witch to put on the replacement sock Dumbledore handed him.

"Well, Bella, let's see what you've got!" the Dark Lord cried once the witch was properly dressed again.

"Why don't you look for me, my Lord?" the witch asked wisely.

"Nonsense," cried Dumbledore. "Santa chose you." and the Dark Lord couldn't but agree.

In the sock was an elegant champagne flute for everybody as well as bottles of champagne for the adults and bottles of bubbly Christmas punch for the kids.

The wizards present opened the bottles and soon everybody was clinking glasses.

"Merry Christmas!" cried Dumbledore and everybody chorused a delighted "Merry Christmas!" in return.

Music started to play and the assembled party-goers got up from the tables. Those disappeared the moment they were vacated and instead a dance floor at the centre of the hall sparkled into existence.

"Allow me!" cried Dumbledore and held his hand out to his deputy. The witch accepted with a smile and allowed herself to be led on the dance floor.

Snape and Septima followed, the Dark Lord and Bellatrix on their heels.

The three couples started the dance but soon more couples joined and the dance floor was filled with waltzing couples.

The dance lasted until late into the night. It turned out that the Dark Lord was a brilliant paso doble dancer. The guests left the castle shortly after midnight, each taking a champagne flute with them. Snape and Septima stayed for another rumba but then retired to Snape's quarters where they found another bottle of Santa's champagne and who were they to refuse an offer from the Claus himself?

THE END

Thank you for reading my little piece of Christmassy nonsense. I wish a very merry Christmas to all my readers. Have a delightful day!


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